


Shadows and Reflections

by nightmares06



Series: Brothers Apart [5]
Category: Supernatural, The Borrowers - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe, Borrower!Sam, Doppelganger, Footsteps, Gen, Tiny!Sam, case!fic, size!fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-13
Updated: 2015-04-16
Packaged: 2018-03-17 14:53:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 29,370
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3533549
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nightmares06/pseuds/nightmares06
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Footsteps follow a girl up the stairs in her apartment and fate hands the brothers a very strange case to solve. While on the hunt, Sam has to come to terms with his size in new ways.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Footsteps and Imaginings

It came again.

_Tap. Tap. Tap. Tap._

She froze on the stairs.

It stopped.

Heart racing, she peered over the railing, trying to see if there was anyone else in the stairwell with her. Some other reason that would cause the sound.  _Any_  other reason.

No one was there.

After moving into the her new fourth floor apartment a little over a month ago, she'd happily started climbing the stairs on a daily basis, determined to keep herself well exercised and physically fit, no matter how involved with her college studies she became. Taking the stairs each day she left home and each day she returned had seemed as good a place as any to start. Especially since her work kept her in the lab almost constantly, weighing out minute amounts of chemicals and studying the reactions with an intense concentration her peers envied.

She was one of the brightest of the chem majors going to the University, always keeping her grades high. Her teachers loved hearing her speak up in class, as she was one of the few students that truly put thought into her queries, instead of the expected requests for information to be repeated.

She had a bright future ahead of her, as all could tell.

But at the moment, none of that mattered.

She turned from the railing, glancing up to the fourth floor. So, so close... she thought with desperation. If she could only reach that door, somehow she knew she'd be safe...

A few weeks into her rigorous schedule on campus, she'd come home one night, climbing up the three flights of stairs as usual. But that night, something had changed. A sound followed her up, just quiet enough for her to think she'd imagined it.

_Tap. Tap. Tap..._

"Hello?" she called out. Maybe one of the other neighbors was using the stairs, for once. For the most part, everyone used the elevator in the first floor lobby. Modern conveniences, increasing the sloth of humanity. Not something she'd considered for herself. If she wanted to truly delve into the chemical mysteries of the world, she'd need to keep herself healthy and fit, living as long a life as she could.

No one responded to her call.

 _Maybe I just imagined it..._  she thought with a small shrug. She made it up to her room without further incident, and pushed it out of her mind.

The next night it was the same. Small taps mirrored her footsteps up the stairwell. They were louder, more distinct this time around. The moment, the  _second_  she stopped, they stopped. She checked for anyone else in the stairwell and found nothing. Maybe some little kid thought it'd be funny to prank her or something. Anyways, she had better things to do than stand around in the stairwell checking for an invisible stalker. She finished climbing to the fourth floor and locked herself in her apartment.

That night, she'd dead-bolted it for the first time since moving.

Each night that week was the same. It repeated over and over. There was never anyone in there with her, never another soul in sight. And it only happened when she came home. Leaving in the morning, the stairwell was completely silent. The silence of the grave.

Nerves on edge, she'd finally given in and stopped using the stairs. She couldn't take it anymore. Her pulse sped up the second she contemplated opening the door to the stairwell, adrenaline flooding her body. She started to hyperventilate the night she'd tried the stairs for the last time, panicked the second the tapping started.

She took the elevator each night for the next few weeks. She started to think it was her imagination. None of the other tenants that rode the elevator with her mentioned anything weird ever happening, and she knew that Rosie at the least occasionally walked up when she had her dog out for a walk.

No taps ever followed Rosie.

Everything went smooth those few weeks. Nothing out of the ordinary. She got her studying done without distraction, and was even able to stay after and help the teacher with a few extra labs. He appreciated her steady hands for measuring out the compounds.

But each night, she dead-bolted that door.

Then one night, she'd come home from a particularly late lab. Exhausted, she almost hadn't noticed the sign taped to the elevator door. It took her walking into it for her to realize that the door had never opened. Eyes wide, she read the big, bold letters, all in red.

**Out of Service.**

"No..." she whispered. She didn't want to go up the stairs. Hear that relentless tapping follow her up again.

She called up her sister, and stayed at her house for the night. How long could an elevator take to fix?

But after three days passed, with the elevator still untouched by maintenance, she had to brave the stairwell. She couldn't live with only one set of clothing, and her sister's hospitality had started to wear thin. After all, she had a home of her own that she'd paid good money for, right?

So here she was.

_Tap. Tap. Tap..._

The moment she started moving, it followed. Every footstep mirrored exactly. Before, whenever she'd stopped moving on the stairs, it would stop for the night. Cease to exist, or whatever it did. Now, it relentlessly followed after each pause.  _As if... it knows I'm afraid._

Heart pumping, she turned the last corner to the final set of steps. The tapping drew closer to her, making her think that if she was to turn around it would be RIGHT THERE, watching her. The thought pushed her up the stairs faster. The taps sped up, matching her step for step.

Leaping up the last few stairs two at a time, she barely caught the railing before tripping over her own feet. She stepped to the door and paused in surprise.

The tapping was gone.

She relaxed slightly as she went to pull the door open, but stopped.

The hairs on the back of her neck rose. She could almost imagine she felt it breathing on her.

No, she wasn't imagining that.

Her hair drifted in the slight breeze.

She closed her eyes for a second, gathering her courage. She turned around.  _Nothing's there, you're just imagining things, you'll be fine..._

Then she saw it.

She screamed.

* * *

**SUPERNATURAL**

* * *

_BEEP! BEEP! BEEP!_

Dean groaned, rolling over in bed. He flopped out his hand, trying to hit the damn alarm clock to shut it up. It took a few tries, but he finally managed to mash the button.  _God, I hate alarms._  Usually he didn't need one, but today he wanted to make sure he got an early start.

He rubbed his face, trying to bring his eyes into focus.

And the first thing he saw was a tiny, pissed Sam Winchester, sitting up on an equally tiny bed not four inches from the alarm clock, the shock on his face matching his crazy bedhead.

Heat rose to Dean's face as he remembered they'd put Sam's bed up there the night before when the nightstand turned out to not have a shelf at all. It was strictly drawers, and Sam said he had no intention of sleeping anywhere he could end up trapped, which Dean heartily agreed with. After some debate they'd settled on the nightstand, since the table was too far away from Dean if anything happened.

Dean hadn't even thought twice when he'd set the alarm clock, intent on an early start.

"Dude, what the hell?" Sam snipped, standing up on the nightstand to glare up at his big brother. Bigger in more ways than one, since Sam was barely four inches tall. He'd been that way since he was ten, and a witch had attacked both brothers. Dean had escaped, thanks to the timely intervention of their father, but neither of them had been able to find Sam when it was all said and done.

Sam, who'd been shrunk down to borrower-size.

Instead, Sam had been rescued by two people the same size as him, hauling him out of the room before the witch could see them. He'd been raised that way for thirteen long years. Long years during which Dean and their father had given him up for dead.

Imagine Dean's surprise when he found a tiny version of Sam in his motel room one day, trying to hide from his older brother (though neither of them had realized at the time who was there in the room with them). Now, Sam was traveling with Dean, and they were searching for their father, who'd gone missing some months before they'd been reunited, and hoping to find a way to break Sam's curse.

One day.

Dean winced. "Yeah... about that. I... uh... kinda forgot how loud it'd be for you."

Sam rolled his eyes. "Not to mention almost mashing my bed - with me in it! - when you tried to hit the button!"

Dean rubbed the back of his neck guiltily. "Dammit, Sam, I'm sorry. I didn't think..."

"That's right, you  _didn't_  think!" Sam tossed the covers off the bed in a huff. Stomping over to where the small pouch of clothing he owned was sitting next to the clock, Sam sent one last glare Dean's way before turning to his belongings. Dean stretched his arms over his head, still trying to wake all the way up.

He was so tired he forgot he'd only hit the snooze button on the alarm. It went off, blaringly loud all over again. Sam leaped up with a yelp, twisting around in midair at the threat. Dean couldn't help a snicker at the sight as he hit the alarm again, this time shutting it down for the day.

Sam subjected him to a withering bitchface before going back to his things and starting to dig through his bag, determinedly ignoring Dean. From the set of his shoulders, Dean would be surprised if Sam talked to him for the rest of the morning. Hell, the rest of the  _day_ if he could manage it.

With a small shrug to himself, Dean hauled himself out of bed. He made sure to keep an eye on the nightstand Sam was on, not wanting to lose track of the little guy. He'd never forgive himself if something happened to his little brother because of him.

Such an early start gave Dean plenty of time to kill, just like he'd planned. He started a small workout to the side of the dresser, starting off with push-ups. Since a hunter's work was never done, he couldn't afford to slack off, even between cases. Little workouts like this might help save his life one day.

Around a half hour into his workout, Dean saw a small shadow walking along the wall of the room. The last few motels they'd stayed in, Sam had been checking every room for tiny, hidden exits and entrances just like the ones that his adopted family had helped make to get in and out of rooms out of sight. He was hoping to find other people like him out there, someone the same size as him to talk to for once. Someone he could interact with without being afraid of being grabbed, or crushed, or taken away against his will. Dean had even checked around for him on occasion, remembering how he'd been able to find the tiny entrances Sam had used to get into his motel room undetected without a problem. So far, they'd had no luck between the two of them.

Even around Dean, the one human he trusted his life to every day, he was still jumpy. Although he was doing much better than before, Dean would still see Sam freeze sometimes when Dean was walking around the room. It mostly happened when Sam was standing down on the floor, and he always had the expression of a deer in headlights when it happened. Dean preferred it that way, knowing that the one day he didn't see Sam on the floor could be the day he unknowingly hurt his brother. At his size, Sam needed the caution.

Finishing up his workout, Dean stood up, carefully checking to make sure Sam wasn't nearby. He grabbed a shirt and a clean pair of jeans, heading for the shower while his brother was still wandering around out of sight. He set the coffee maker to start and got a fast shower, wasting no time while he was in there. He had work he wanted to get done.

Finally finished with his morning routine, Dean grabbed himself a coffee, making sure to set aside a small capful for Sam if he wanted any. He wasn't in sight for Dean to ask at the moment, so Dean shrugged to himself. Wouldn't be his fault if the coffee was cold before Sam got to drink it.

Pulling his laptop out, Dean loaded it up, putting in his password.  _Invalid password._  He tried a second time and got the same message.

"Sam!"

Sam shuffled out from behind the nightstand, still grumpy from his startling wake-up. "What?" he snapped, annoyed.

"Did you mess with my password?"

Even from all the way across the room Dean could see his tiny brother sigh. "I didn't  _mess_  with it, Dean. I  _fixed_  it. We needed a more secure password for the computer. What if someone got hold of it? At the very least, you'd get tossed in jail for credit card fraud, never mind all the information on monsters you have stored on there. Where would I be then?"

Dean found himself gritting his teeth, aggravated with Sam's know-it-all attitude. He had work to do. "Sam. What's. The. Password."

Sam flinched away at the tone, slipping closer to the back of the nightstand with a fearful expression on his face. Dean realized too late how threatening he'd sounded. He tried to tone it down, softening his face from the angry scowl. The last thing he ever wanted to do was make his brother afraid of him. Or make Sam  _hide_  from him again, especially considering it made Dean sick to even  _think_  of Sam getting hurt because of him. It was so hard to remember sometimes that anything he did could come off as a threat to someone barely four inches tall, no matter that he'd never let anything happen to Sam. "Sam," he pleaded, as gentle as he could manage. "What did you change the password to?"

Sam gathered himself back together, slightly trembling where he stood. "I... I made a rotating algorithm for the passwords, that'll switch once a week. That way it'll be much harder to hack us." He reeled off a series of letters and numbers Dean had a hard time following even as he entered them in.

"How the hell am I supposed to remember that?" The computer finally loaded up to the desktop, letting Dean open up the browser.

Sam shrugged to himself. "I'll show you later how I remember it. But it's better this way - safer for both of us." He slipped back behind the nightstand, out of sight.

Where he didn't feel in any danger.

Dean sighed sadly to himself as he watched his brother's tiny shadow disappear. He could have handled that a thousand different ways, and somehow he always managed to pick the worst way possible. Why was it so hard for him to empathize with Sam?

_Because you'll never know what it's like to be small enough to get stepped on. He's small enough that just one thoughtless action can kill him. All it takes is one second you're not paying attention and he could end up dead. Because of YOU. And here you are, scaring the little guy, asshat. Some big brother you are._

Pushing the sour voice out of his head, Dean turned back to the computer, which was finally loaded and ready to go. Determined to distract himself from Sam, he loaded up a few familiar searches. First, he cycled through any of the phone number's his father had used in the past, checking to see if any had been used recently. If they were, he could track them to where they'd been used most recently.

Once that search turned up a big fat nothing, as per usual, he started to search for the truck their dad drove. The man must drive like a saint. No red flags on the license plate, no speeding tickets, he hadn't even run any red lights recently.

Dean rubbed his face. Tracking their dad was turning out to be more difficult than any of the monsters he'd ever hunted. At this rate, they'd never find the man. All he needed was one break, one slip-up by John. That's all it would take, and they'd finally be able to find him. Give Sam the chance to meet the man who'd raised him once upon a time. Dean could see how it tore his brother up inside, not knowing where John was. Thinking John didn't care, after the way he'd never responded when they'd called him up, told him what had happened to Sam. That Sam was alive.

Dean himself still couldn't believe there'd been no call back after that. It had taken John years to recover from losing his youngest son. He'd bounced back faster than Dean, but the haunted look in his eyes had never truly left. He hadn't even been willing to take Dean on any hunts until Dean was almost 16.

While he was lost in his thoughts, staring at the screen, Dean became aware of a slight tugging on his pants. He couldn't stop a slight smile from twitching at his lips. As surreptitiously as he could manage, he peeked over the side of his leg. As he'd thought, Sam was determinedly climbing up. It was entertaining how Sam would rather climb up a giant like that, instead of just asking for a lift. Dean didn't think he'd be able to bring himself to trust anyone enough to ever do that without them even knowing he was there. But for some reason, Sam trusted him completely, even after their argument twenty minutes ago.

Sam scrambled up to the knee, standing to his full, four inch height. Dean dropped a hand next to him. "Need a lift?" he asked, hating to see Sam work so hard for something he could help out with almost effortlessly.

Sam stared at the hand next to him for a second, then shook his head. "I'm good," he said, his tone flat. He turned from the hand, climbing up the side of Dean's shirt on his own.

Dean felt himself wilt a bit inside from Sam's tone, knowing he deserved it. Scaring Sam… how low could he get? His hand dropped back to his side, fingers as long as Sam was tall, twitching.

It was only a few more seconds before Sam made it up to his shoulder, agilely climbing the last foot in record time. Dean shifted on the seat, barely able to see his brother from the corner of his eye. He was starting to get used to having Sam sit on his shoulders. It was strange, how Sam seemed more at ease with Dean most days than the other way around. He supposed it could have something to do with being that size for so long. Sam might not have interacted with any humans before Dean, but he knew about the size difference, which was an advantage over Dean, who had no idea there were tiny people living underfoot until that fateful day they'd found each other.

"Any luck finding dad?" came Sam's small voice, still sounding off from their argument earlier. The confidence he normally had while talking to Dean was gone, a slight undertone of fear still present instead. As though he'd realized how vulnerable he was around Dean like this.

"No, nothing." Dean tried to turn his head so he could see Sam, and caught him at the edge of sight. "Sam… about earlier…"

"Dean, its fine. Can we just drop it?" Sam cut him off. "I'm not… I'm fine. You didn't  _do_  anything wrong."

"Yeah, sure," Dean muttered, not believing him for a second. He rubbed the back of his head. One stupid sentence and he felt like he'd erased over a month's worth of trust he'd built with his brother. Hearing the fear in his brother's voice directed at  _him..._  it hurt Dean more than taking a knife in the gut.

In the end he turned back to the computer anyway, not wanting to go through the argument anymore.

He closed the search for their father, opening up a new screen and started to go through recent news stories in the nearby towns. Maybe if they found a hunt everything'd go back to normal… or as normal as things could get, with his brother being a four inch tall Borrower (not that Sam would ever admit he  _was_  one).

After reading through the articles online for around a half hour with Dean, Sam slipped off his shoulder, using Dean's arm to walk over to the table. Dean managed to stop himself from twitching with the strange feeling of feet walking across his arm. The last thing he needed to do was toss Sam from his arm.

While Dean kept the search going, slowly widening the range of towns he was checking, Sam grabbed the bottlecap of cold coffee Dean had left him earlier. He took a few sips and made a disgusted face. "This is so much better when it's fresh."

Dean smirked. "Told you. And you didn't believe me when I told you stuff tastes better right off the grill."

Rolling his eyes, Sam retorted, "I believed you fine. I hate going to diners because there's so many people around. Besides,  _anything_  fresh tastes good when you had to scavenge for food all your life."

An article online caught Dean's eye while Sam was talking. "Here we go," he said, pulling Sam's attention away from food. "A girl a few towns over died in a stairwell. Not a mark on her. The neighbor that found her said, 'it was like she had the life sucked right out of her.' No one has been able to find a reason why such a healthy young woman suddenly keeled over, lifeless."

Even as small as Sam was, Dean could see his eyebrows go right up into his hair. Sam was instantly riveted. "Did they put up any pictures of her body?"

Dean clicked through the links while Sam came over. "Nothing. Just her yearbook picture." He pulled up the report from the doctor that had been released to the public. "They say she died from 'asphyxiation due to an unexpected seizure.' But she had no history of seizures before she died, and one of the doctor's mentioned he'd never seen anything like this before."

Sam made an intrigued face. "Sounds like a case."

"That it does." Dean grinned, closing the laptop.

* * *

Shifting uncomfortably inside the pocket, Sam tried to concentrate on the conversation taking place above him.

They'd arrived in town earlier that day, grabbing a cheap motel room. Sam was thrilled to see a bottom shelf on the nightstand this time. Seeing Dean's massive hand bare inches away from mashing Sam into his bed had completely freaked him out that morning.  _Never again,_  Sam thought to himself. The sheer size of his brother's hand and how fast Dean had moved had made it one of the most alarming wake-ups in his life. Sam wouldn't have been able to get out of the way in time if Dean had missed.

It had even topped the time his family had woken up to noisy humans, stomping around right above them without any warning whatsoever. Sam could remember how easily their belongings had been tossed around, knocked easily to the ground from just the vibrations of giant footsteps overhead. The family had arrived in the dead of night, giving Sam's family no time to prepare. They had been lucky that no one had taken note of the strange sounds from beneath the floorboards - the family that had checked in had been too tired and had gone to sleep within the hour, leaving Sam and his adopted parents trying to clean up a massive mess without making any sound.

But it had been close.

So, Sam so far wasn't having a great day.

And being squished in a pocket for over an hour now wasn't helping.

Dean's voice echoed around him. "And did your sister Marie ever mention what she thought was following her up the stairs?"

The second voice was softer, feminine. Sam had no idea what the girl looked like. Since Dean was wearing his FBI suit there was no way for Sam to see out at all. He was in the inside pocket of the suit, on the left hand side. He had been fairly surprised to learn that Dean had sewn the majority of inside pockets in his clothes himself, needing the ability to hide practically an arsenal on himself, depending on the hunt. Normal jackets didn't have anything close to the number of hiding places Dean used on a daily basis, so he'd taken it upon himself to modify everything himself. They made very convenient hiding places for Sam, but they weren't exactly made to be traveled in, so he hadn't been able to get into a comfortable spot yet.

The pocket swayed in midair as Dean leaned forward to hear the girl's answer, rocking like a hammock. "She... she never said," came the girl's - Sera's - voice. "Just mentioned the footsteps. Said anytime she tried to see where they were coming from, they'd stop. And when she checked, there was never anything there."

It was strange, hearing a human so close and not feeling much fear of her. He knew as long as he was with Dean nothing would happen to him. There was no chance of him getting snatched or stepped on at all, which was something he still wasn't used too.

"Hmm." Dean's mutter rumbled through the pocket. "And she never mentioned... any cold spots? Maybe some electronics on the fritz?"

"No, nothing like that, why?"

"Just want to make sure we cover all the basics. She was sure it was footsteps? Not scratching... maybe a really big rat in the walls?"

"Oh no. Definitely footsteps. She was sure about that."

Dean's voice changed, more sympathetic now. "Did you see her before she passed away?"

There was silence for a long, painfully stretched-out minute. "...Yes."

"How was she, the last time you saw her before she died?"

"She was... freaked." Sam could hear tears in the girl's voice. "She stayed at my house three days in a row when she found out the elevator was broken in the apartment building. I've never seen her so scared..." her voice trailed off. "They fixed the elevator after she died. Figures, right?"

Sam shifted again, trying to find a more comfortable position in the cramped, hot pocket. Being trapped in there was starting to get to him, making him feel like the pocket was getting smaller, pressing in on him...

In time with these thoughts, a weight pressed against him from the outside. It caught Sam off guard, unable to see it coming. Dean's fingers wrapped around him, stilling his movement effortlessly. Sam tried to squirm away for a few seconds before giving in, realizing it was useless to fight against fingers bigger than he was. The grip was gentle but insistent.

Sera started up again, voice cracking. "It's all my fault she's dead... if I'd just let her stay one more night... just long enough for the elevator to get fixed... maybe this wouldn't have happened..." she trailed off into stifled sobs.

The pressure was gone from Sam as fast as it had come. Dean softened his voice to the girl. "There's no way you could have known anything like this this would happen. It's not your fault." He stood up, gravity pushing Sam briefly to the bottom of the pocket from the motion. "If there's anything else you think of, or if anything comes up, give me a call."

The side of the jacket Sam was hiding in shifted as Dean reached a hand in. Curious, and glad for some light, Sam poked his head out to get a breath of fresh air while the jacket opened. He watched his brother's massive hand reach into the cavernous insides of the jacket. In the dim lighting, he saw it reach into the pocket directly under Sam to pull out a business card with the number to one of Dean's burner phones on it. The moment the hand was out of the jacket, it closed again, bumping Sam's small body against the solid wall behind him. He slumped back down into the pocket, feeling lonely in the dark. Dean would never know what this was like.

"Thank you for your time," Dean said after handing over the card.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just so you know, Dean did NOT mean to squish Sam there. He was just trying to keep Sam from getting noticed. It was for his own good, even though it was a little harsh.


	2. Investigation

Five minutes later, Dean was walking down the sidewalk. "You got ants in your pants or something?" his deep voice demanded of Sam.

Sam couldn't help twitching away from the anger and annoyance in the voice echoing around him, reminded of their argument that morning. And, on purpose or not, reminded of his insignificance. The last few days, Sam couldn't help the feeling that he was pissing Dean off more often than not. Dean had been so angry ever since visiting their old house. Ever since calling their dad and hearing nothing back from him. For the thousandth time.

Sam had honestly thought he'd be helping when he changed the password to the computer… he'd been meaning to do it ever since finding out how easily hacked Dean's was. Sure, he felt bad he'd forgot to tell Dean he changed it, but the last thing he'd expected was the anger he'd heard in his brother's booming voice. It was the first time in weeks Sam had actually felt real fear of his brother. The first time in ages he'd felt so exposed and vulnerable with  _Dean._  The only human in the world that treated him like a person. Even later on, sitting on Dean's shoulder like he normally did, he hadn't been able to push the underlying fear completely away.

"No... it's just hot and stuffy in here. And cramped." He couldn't help hoping Dean would take him out at last. Being trapped in a pocket this way was one of his biggest annoyances. And the inside pocket of Dean's jacket was even worse. Not only could he not get out on his own, he couldn't even see what was going on outside, and it was hot and stifling, with no fresh air. "And what the hell was up with grabbing me earlier?"

Dean didn't answer him right away. Sam heard the familiar creak of the Impala's door opening outside before Dean's voice came again, this time far less oppressive. "She was giving me weird looks the whole time you were shifting around in there. I just didn't want her getting suspicious. Did… I didn't hurt you, did I?" As he talked, his voice went from its normal tone to a worried hush, as if he hadn't realized what he was doing when he pressed his hand over Sam. Dean sometimes forgot how fragile Sam was compared to him.

Sam shifted to the other side of the pocket. "No, I'm fine. You… just caught me off guard. I… I just hate not knowing what's going on out there."

The jacket moved again while he was talking, opening up. Dean's huge hand crowded in the pocket with Sam, effortlessly scooping him out. Once he was out of the jacket in the fresh air, Sam glared up at Dean, feeling rumpled. His hair was uncontrollably scattered every which way from being scrunched into the pocket so long. He took a deep breath the moment he was free of the jacket, trying to straighten out his pocket-hair.

Dean had a guilty look on his face once Sam got a clear view of his brother. "Look, man," he said, voice softer now. "I know this whole situation sucks. But what other choice do we have? You can't exactly sit on my shoulder when I'm with a vic."

Sam sighed, shifting uncomfortably on the open palm. He couldn't help wishing for some space from Dean after everything that had happened so far that day. "Whatever."

Dean lifted his hand to his shoulder, letting Sam climb off. "Well, I didn't get much from the sister, aside from it was definitely steps she heard. And, there's almost no chance this was just some freak medical thing. This is  _definitely_  our type of job. You up for visiting Marie's apartment?"

Sam sat back against Dean's neck, stretching out his legs along the shoulder as he got comfortable. It was nice to be able to stretch out. "You know it."

* * *

The apartment complex was only a few miles away from Sera's house. Dean pulled the Impala into the parking lot, taking one of the front spots. It was the middle of the day, so the majority of tenants were either at work or at school.

The building Marie had lived in was six stories tall, large and foreboding. Sam shielded his eyes from the sun, staring up at the monolithic building in front of them. It towered over the entire landscape, and at his size the effect became even more overblown, the top of the building so distant Sam had trouble making it out. Red bricks gave the building an older feel from the more modern apartments Sam had seen while traveling with his brother, but he remembered the complex had been built recently.

"Do you really think it could be an angry spirit?" he inquired curiously. "Six years just doesn't feel like enough time for a spirit to latch on to a building like this. How many violent deaths could have happened here?"

Dean shrugged absently, almost knocking Sam's balance off. Sam was given an abashed look while he answered. "It's possible, but not likely. Still, the way this thing's acting is more like a vengeful spirit than any monster I know about, so we'll start with that for now."

He got out of the Impala, leaving Sam on his shoulder for the moment. Opening the backdoor, Dean grabbed some supplies from his duffel. EMF meter, salt, the sawed-off shotgun he'd made... anything useful when going up against a spirit. Sam checked himself quickly, unintentionally mirroring his big brother's movements as he made sure he had his small silver knife tucked away. It was a pity he didn't have any iron small enough to wield... the silver knife wouldn't do him much good against a spirit. He still had his bag of salt tucked away with the knife from the last case they'd hunted a spirit. At his size, that was as good as it would get.

Dean was still tucking weapons away when Sam finished patting himself down. A handgun in the back of his pants, salt in a pocket, small container of lighter fluid, knife up a sleeve... Sam was always shocked that you couldn't tell that Dean had anything hidden on him, it was so masterfully done. It made Dean a dangerous man to have as your enemy, and never one to be underestimated. Soon his sawed-off shotgun, loaded with salt rounds, was the only visible weapon he was holding, and even that got tucked into the shirt in the end.

Dean stood straight, locking up the car. "I'm just gonna keep you in the pocket until we get to Marie's apartment, okay?" he asked, trying to catch a glimpse of Sam from the corner of his eye.

"Great," Sam muttered. More pocket travel.

It honestly wasn't bad in the other coats his brother owned... the chest pockets were the best to travel in. They were smaller, but he wasn't stifled or crushed when he hid in there. For some reason, the sound of Dean's heart beating behind him was calming as well. And the side pockets of the jackets were much larger, despite the way they swayed at Dean's slightest movement. He'd even started to find those pockets comforting to be in.

On the other hand, having to stay in the inside pocket was cramped, hot and uncomfortable. It was smaller, it was stifling, and he was trapped in there until Dean let him out. Dean could feel his slightest movement and neither of them had even the slightest modicum of personal space.

In the end he climbed willingly into Dean's offered hand. He didn't want to start anything, knowing Dean hated the idea as much as he did. Sometimes there just weren't any other options. The huge jacket swung effortlessly open in front of Sam as Dean lowered him down. Sam glanced up at his brother one last time before jumping into the pocket, landing at the bottom without a scratch.

The pocket shifted as Dean closed the jacket, coming to a rest with Sam leaning against the huge wall that Dean's chest formed behind him. There was a bit more movement as Dean fixed his suit up so it would be presentable, and made sure Sam was out of sight. One of the massive hands brushed gently over Sam's small form, making sure that he was alright before setting out.

The huge footsteps echoed up through the pocket, rattling Sam slightly from where he was curled up in a ball, in a corner of the pocket for support. Feeling the power in each step made him remember how easy it would be for him to get stepped on if he was ever on the ground.

It wasn't long before the cadence of the footsteps changed, the little light leaking in the jacket becoming dimmer. There was a sound from behind Dean of a door closing as his brother entered the apartment building.

Dean's voice echoed around Sam. "I'm gonna take the stairs, see if there's any EMF on our way up. You hold on in there, alright?"

"Yeah, got it." Sam called up. Putting action to words, he threaded his fingers through the coarse fabric on either side of him.

He remembered the last time going up stairs with Dean. It hadn't been a fun experience. And, when he felt Dean take that first step, he knew this time would be no better. At his size, he didn't weigh the jacket down at all. So each step Dean took shook the pocket, making Sam bounce up a few inches in the air. He gritted his teeth when his small body bounced off Dean's solid chest in time with the footsteps. There was no way he was getting out of this day without any bruises.

Luckily, not too long into the trip, Dean wrapped his hand around Sam, holding the pocket and his brother still with gentle insistence. Sam felt himself relax with the support from his brother, no longer bouncing with each step. Dean kept his hand there the rest of the way, even after he got out the EMF meter with his other hand and started scanning on the last flight of stairs before Marie's apartment.

Sam could hear the steady buzzing of Dean's equipment, giving off no reaction as he finished climbing the stairs. The whole time, Dean didn't talk much, completely focused on the job at hand.

Once they reached the top of the stairs, Sam felt the jacket opened again as Dean dug out his lockpick. He was swung out as it was held open, holding tighter to the pocket when he remembered how high on the air he was suspended like this. Once it closed again, all he could hear was the steady clicks coming from the doorknob while Dean got it open.

Moments later they were in the apartment and Sam was taken out of the pocket at last. Dean held him out in front. "So, where do you wanna start?" he asked, arching his eyebrows at Sam.

Sam glanced around the apartment from his high perch, examining the rooms with his own unique take on it. They were standing in the kitchen next to the entrance. The entire space was wide open, appliances and counters lining the walls. He could see past the doorway that the next room had much more clutter, past a small dining room table. He thought for a moment as he took in all the detail. "How about the next room? Doesn't look like many places in here that could be used to get into the walls."

Their plan was to sweep the apartment, leaving no stone unturned. Dean would check out the girl's rooms and Sam would be able to check the walls and corners Dean couldn't reach, since he was small enough. His size could come in handy for at least one thing.

Dean gently lowered him to the ground in the doorway between rooms, standing up once Sam was sure of his footing. Sam took one glance up at his brother from his angle on the floor, and turned quickly to the dining room. He didn't mind standing on the floor, but it was still disconcerting to see how much Dean towered over him from down here. Sam didn't even reach the top of Dean's boots like this.

He made his way past the massive table and chairs that were in the room as quick as he could. He could hear (and feel) Dean's boots thumping in the kitchen as he scanned the area for any EMF that would indicate a haunting. From what he could hear, Dean wasn't having much luck.

Sam finally reached the far wall, gently touching a crack in the wall. The wallpaper peeled off, opening to the space between the walls. He peered into the dark, searching for signs that anyone his size had ever been there. If you knew what to look for, it was easy to tell if there was anyone making the walls their home. Unfortunately, all he found was dust bunnies and sawdust and a distinct lack of footsteps. So much for someone his size seeing the whole thing. That would just be too easy, wouldn't it?

Going deeper into the wall, a small amount of light filtered from the room beyond. Dean's footsteps shook the dust around him as he came into the dining room to continue his own search. A brief shadow blocked out the light for a moment when Dean walked by the entrance, not realizing his little brother was inside.

Tearing himself away from the odd feeling of fear he got from the thought of his brother having no idea where he was, Sam made his way further into the walls. It was odd that he actually preferred to have a human know where he was after years being raised the complete opposite way. His way of thinking was slowly shifting from how he'd been raised.

Wood ply beams stretched over his head, held in place by screws as big as his head or larger. He took advantage of a beam that stretched up into the wall at an angle, using it to climb away from the ground.

He paused for a moment in his climbing, reassured by the closed walls around him. For so long now he'd been traveling with Dean he'd forgotten what it was like to be safely away from the human world. The darkness was comfort, along with the knowledge that in here he was away from giant, prying eyes. He wouldn't trade his life with Dean for the world, but sometimes it was nice to not have giant eyes on him all the time. As much as he trusted his brother (and even with the argument from that morning, he still trusted Dean with his life) his instincts, honed from years of avoiding humans, were always on edge around Dean.

From up in the air, he could see further into the dark recesses of the walls. There was no sign of any malicious presence. One of the main signs their dad had told them to check for was ectoplasm. It only appeared with the most powerful spirits, but it was a clear and easy to spot sign of a haunting. One of the only hard parts about finding it was it often only appeared in places that humans had a hard time getting into. Like the walls.

Another thing Dean had told him to check for was hexbags. A witch could easily have caused Marie's death. Because the spell could be tracked or stopped if you could find the hexbag they were always hidden in hard to reach areas. Walls, under sinks... small dark corners that were easily forgotten and overlooked.

Luckily for Dean, getting into the walls had become a lot easier with his miniature brother.

And it was nice to actually feel needed. Sam had a hard time being useful with certain types of hunts. Like vampires… what could he do to help out against a massive, overpowered killing machine? Dean would have to handle that type of hunt on his own. Sam would just be a liability in that situation. He'd be reduced to the research buddy.

Over the next ten minutes, Sam made his way through the walls, searching for ectoplasm and hexbags. He could hear Dean in the rooms beyond, the thumping of his boots making him easy to track. It was a constant reassurance to hear him thud throughout the apartment. Even when he tried to walk softly Sam could track him by the shaking floors.

Aside from what seemed to be a mouse nest made of lost fabrics and birdseed, Sam didn't find anything remotely interesting. Nothing out of the ordinary was in the walls at all, making his search a bust. He made his way through the walls until he found another exit through the wallpaper, although this time he had to use his knife to make the opening big enough to fit through.

He found himself standing on a desk next to a tall computer in what had to be the girl's office. "Dean?" he called out, listening for his brother.

It was a few minutes before Dean found him there, still brandishing the EMF meter. "Any luck?" he asked as he came over to the desk, resting a hand near Sam.

Sam took the initiative and climbed up to Dean's shoulder, gripping the thick fabric for support. It was easy enough, the way Dean kept himself motionless until Sam was settled. Dean was well used to Sam's antics when it came to being independent enough to get himself around. "Nothing in the walls. Just some sawdust and maybe a mouse nest. No mice though. You?"

"No, not even a blip. Whatever this is, it's either gone or not a spirit. And if there are any witches in the area, they're either real good at hiding their work, or using magic I haven't seen yet." Dean rubbed the back of his head. "We should check into the history of the apartment, what little there is. Who knows, maybe we'll find a previous tenant that offed themselves in the stairwell if we're lucky."

Sam cracked a smile. "So, more research?"

Even though he couldn't see his brother's eyes from where he was sitting, Sam knew Dean was rolling them. His lips twitched at Dean's predictability. "Yeah, my favorite part," Dean muttered dryly. "You hungry before we get back to the motel?"

"Uh, maybe a salad or something," Sam said, "I'm not too hungry."

"How can a salad possibly taste good? You're pretty much eating  _leaves_  as big as you are," Dean quipped.

"Better than all that grease  _you_  eat on those bacon cheeseburgers."

"But at least I enjoy my food." Dean walked out of the apartment with Sam still on his shoulder.

Sam held on to the collar for support as his seat swayed under him with Dean's steady gait. He sighed, wishing Dean could understand how much he loved fresh food. And why. How did you explain what it was like to live without any fresh food for most of your life to someone who'd always been able to eat what he wanted, when he wanted? "What makes you think I don't enjoy salads? They taste a lot better than most things I eat like this. And I love how fresh they are."

"Whatever you say." Dean hit the button on the elevator.

While they were waiting, Sam brushed his hand over his arms, smoothing down the hairs. He felt on edge suddenly. Like he was being watched. But nothing was in there. Sam's instincts with being seen were usually fantastic. It was a survival skill that had served him well. He decided not to mention anything when Dean had no reaction. Surely if there was anything around, a trained hunter would notice.

It took about a minute until the elevator dinged, opening up to let them in.

Seconds before the door opened all the way, Sam caught sight of a human standing inside. He dove under the collar of Dean's jacket, flattening himself against the broad shoulder. Sam prayed she hadn't seen him sitting out the open there. Of course - the  _one_  time he got to stay out of the pocket he almost gets spotted.  _Just my luck,_  he thought with annoyance.

Dean stiffened the moment he realized what was happening. Trying to play it cool he strode into the elevator, standing next to the girl. She had a small dog on a leash, sitting obediently at her feet. She was pretty, with shoulder length blond hair and flawless skin. If Dean had been alone he might have made a pass at her.

As things were, Sam's tiny body shook slightly against his shoulder, reminding him exactly how vulnerable his brother was in this type of everyday situation. Sam needed him to focus now more than ever.

Dean tried to ignore Sam, not wanting the girl to pick up on his own nervousness, compounded by Sam's fear. She eyed him up and down, curiosity in her eyes as she took in his suit.

"Are you here investigating Marie's death?" she blurted out all at once as he came to stand next to her. Her blue eyes were suddenly wide and fearful.

"Uh, yeah. How'd you guess?" Dean asked, turning slightly towards her.

"We've just… had a lot of suits in checking out her place the last few days." She stared down at her puppy. "She was so nervous the last days I saw her."

The elevator came to a halt at the ground floor. Dean got out, waiting for the girl to follow. "What do you mean?" he asked.

"She… I saw her on and off the last few weeks," she gazed into the distance as she spoke. Dean could feel Sam moving slightly on his shoulder, tiny hands searching for purchase. He was probably trying to get into a better position on the shoulder. As long as Sam remained out of sight and wasn't in any danger of falling off.

She continued on after a moment. "Every time I saw her, she seemed more nervous. Like… real jumpy. She asked me a few times if I heard anything ever following me up the stairs."

She knelt down next to the puppy, rubbing its fluffy ears. It have a happy little groan, leaning into her touch. "When I walk Reagan, I used to take the stairs. He liked climbing up and down, and he gets really nervous when we're in the elevator. But, ever since her death, I can't bring myself to go down the stairs. It's like…. something's there, waiting." Her lips trembled. "You probably think I'm crazy."

The puppy jumped up, giving the girl a lick on the cheek and whined, trying to cheer her up. She smiled, pushing him down.

Dean, standing there with his four-inch brother hiding on his shoulder and an arsenal concealed on his body for hunting spirits, didn't even blink. "We're investigating every lead we find. No matter how crazy it sounds," he gave her a smile as she stood back up.

Dean was finally left alone with Sam as she went outside to walk her puppy. "You alright there, short stuff?" he reached up a hand to help Sam out from under the jacket.

"Ha ha ha, very funny," came Sam's tiny voice in his ear as he pulled himself free. He pushed away Dean's helpful hand. "I'm fine."

Dean smirked as a thought came to him. "So, Polly wanna cracker?"

Sam slapped the side of Dean's neck, grimacing when his hand stung more than it hurt Dean. "Jackass."

Dean laughed. "Ow, that  _almost_  hurt! You been working out?" He walked out to the car, checking to make sure no one else was around to see his tiny brother sitting on his shoulder. Aside from the girl they'd seen on the elevator, no one was in sight, and she was busy watching her puppy play in the grass.

"You hear what she said?" Dean asked, focusing back on the case.

"Yeah, sounds like whatever this is, it's connected to the stairwell."

With that in mind, the Impala pulled out in the street, heading towards the nearest restaurant.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A bit of independence for little Sammy during investigation! 
> 
> Next chapter arrives March 27th!


	3. Bonds

Later that night, Dean and Sam sat in the motel room, eating through the food Dean had picked up from a small diner earlier on.   
  
Sam had waited in the car the entire time, wanting to keep out of sight. He’d been in a pocket for far too long that day already, he hadn’t wanted to come in if it meant sitting in the pocket even more.   
  
Still, being alone in the car was almost just as bad. Jumping at every shadow that passed by, afraid someone would glance in and see him there. Sam was feeling far jumpier than normal after everything he’d gone through that day. Almost being seen, pissing off Dean with every little thing he did… it was like he couldn’t do anything right.  
  
Now that they were in the room, it was a bit better. Dean was still giving him surreptitious looks out of the corner of his eye, guilt painted on his face whenever he met Sam’s eyes. Sam knew he felt awful for the way he’d acted in the morning, but Dean being Dean, he wouldn’t say anything. Some things never changed.  
  
It wasn’t all bad though. The salad Dean had ended up getting him was delicious, with chicken, carrots, cheese and different types of lettuce all mixed in. The sheer amount of variety humans got to eat on a daily basis was amazing compared to what he’d grown up with. The only choices they’d ever been able to make were where they’d be able to scavenge the food from… the motel rooms or the kitchen. Whatever leftovers that were in the room was what they ended up eating.   
  
Dean was sitting at the table, devouring a bacon cheeseburger with the single minded intensity he got whenever food was in front of him. Not far away, Sam was trying to ignore his the sounds his brother made from above while he ate his own food. Sitting near Dean when he was eating was still disturbing enough for Sam to lose his own appetite if he paid attention. Dean tore through his food with massive bites, swallowing chunks of his sandwich whole that were almost the same size as Sam. Sam tried to not let him know he got nervous, since it wasn’t his brother’s fault Sam was literally bite-sized. Plus, Dean was  _already_  blaming himself for everything, the last thing Sam wanted was to make him feel guilty for something he had no control over.  
  
Once he was finished with his food, Sam pushed it to the side, going over to the computer. Dean hadn’t touched it since they’d gotten back to the room, aside from starting it up. Entering the password with practiced ease, Sam loaded up the Internet browser while his brother finished up his food behind him. One thing he’d made sure to do when he’d created the password was make it easier for him to enter. Stepping on the keys with his boots wasn’t the easiest way to enter data, but he was so small it was his only option. At least the touchpad for the computer still responded to his hand the same as it did for Dean’s fingers, as long as he used his entire hand and not just a finger.  
  
He settled down to his work.  


* * *

  
Once Dean finished eating, he folded his hands on the table, resting his head. From this angle he could see Sam at an almost normal perspective, instead of staring down at his head like normal. Sam almost seemed… tall like this. Long legs, lanky body, even his poofy hair... Dean couldn’t help but wonder exactly how tall Sam would be if they ever got him back to size.  _When_  they got him back to normal. He’d hate to be the shorter brother. Yet for all the short jokes he leveled at Sam, Dean wouldn’t hesitate for a second to get Sam back to size, even if it meant he ended up being the shorter of the pair.  
  
'Course, if that ever happened, he’d certainly given Sam plenty of ammo to work with.  
  
For the next few minutes he watched the tiny Winchester hop about in front of him. A small smile curled at free edge of his mouth at the slight ridiculousness of the sight. Sam was trying so hard.   
  
A thought occurred to him. “Hey Sam, there's been something I’ve been meaning to ask you,” he said, keeping his voice down this close to Sam.  
  
Sam stopped, stepping off the keyboard so he could get a good look at Dean. While Dean had his head propped up like that, Sam could almost see eye to eye with his brother. At least, as long as he was standing on the computer. “What?” he asked curiously.  
  
“Did you have any luck when you checked out curses? I know I’ve seen you researching them.”   
  
Sam scowled down at his boots. Dean couldn’t help but notice that they were smaller than the computer keys he was standing near. “I don’t know if we’re going to  _have_  any luck with this curse Dean.”  
  
Dean’s eyebrows shot up in surprise at the unexpected condemnation in Sam’s voice. “What do you mean? There’s always a way. We just haven't found it yet. You can't let yourself believe that witch. She lied, Sam. It  _has_ to be a lie." Near the end, Dean’s voice rose, making Sam wince at the volume. Dean couldn't allow himself to believe the witch's words were anything but a lie, though.  
  
Sam paced over to the edge of the computer, meeting Dean square in the eyes. “When… when Nixie was here, she said she could see the curse on me. So I asked her. I asked her what it was… if she could help break it. She said there was no way for her to break the curse. She said it was unique.” He met Dean’s eyes. “The curse… it’s somehow bound to my  _soul._  She said she could see a dark pattern etched on it, like a black webbing. We've never even  _heard_  of a curse like that. And... you  _know_  Nixie had no reason to lie to us."  
  
Dean reached a hand over to Sam, carefully resting a fingertip lightly on his brother’s shoulder. For once, Sam didn't flinch away from the massive hand. “Sam… why didn't you tell me this before?" he asked softly, not wanting to come off as demanding after everything he'd done that day. He gently rubbed the small shoulder, wishing he could even give Sam a friendly pat on the back without being afraid he was going to hurt the tiny guy. It was just so fragile under his touch.  
  
Sam shrugged, pushing the finger off his shoulder with a small hand. Dean let him, not wanting to come off as pushy after everything else. "Dean, you already know there's almost no chance I'll ever go back to normal. I just... I don't want your pity. I can deal with my size. It's just how I am. I can accept that. I don't want to deal with being pitied because of it."  
  
Dean couldn't hide the hurt in his eyes at this.  _That's_  why Sam hadn't told him? "Sam..." he started, wanting nothing more than to reassure Sam, tell him he’d never dream of pitying him.  
  
With a glare that stopped Dean in his tracks, Sam turned away from him, stepping back onto the keyboard with determination. His hair was ruffled when Dean sighed in exasperation, pushing himself back up to a sitting position. For a few minutes he sat there staring down at Sam thoughtfully, tapping his fingers on the table.  
  
In the end he left Sam at the computer, going over to the bed to watch TV for a bit while his food settled.  


* * *

  
His mind was starting to return.  
  
The girl had been good, enough to prevent further decay while drifting in that twilight realm between the living and the dead. For a long while, he'd thought he'd breathed his last.  
  
Then  _she_  had moved in.  
  
Her life was so bright, so vibrant, it had drawn him like a moth to a flame. Drifting near her that first time, he'd felt the link begin, tying her to him with an unbreakable bond.  
  
Since he was so weak, so close to death, that was the most he'd been able to do. Then he had to wait. His bond with her prevented his death for the time being, slowly strengthening him every time she used the stairs to get home.   
  
Eventually, he'd gained enough strength to manifest himself for the first time in over a decade. At first it was faint, a tapping at the edge of hearing that only she would hear. He'd followed her each time, drawing strength from her proximity.  
  
But always, she'd left before he could draw enough.  
  
The long years he'd spent in limbo had truly drained him, weakening his form and his powers. It had been a slow process, gaining it all back. Unable to leave, unable to follow his source of sustenance. He’d lingered there for years before being able to tie himself to her. And it was a long, slow process once he had that bond, a little bit each day while his strength started to grow.  
  
And eventually, he'd persevered.  
  
Then she'd stopped coming down the stairwell.  
  
At first he thought it was the end. He was bound to her for as long as she lived. No other human could give him sustenance until that day. The bond was permanent, a liability that had never affected him before now. If she was to leave while he was trapped in this place he would truly fade, losing his touch, his grasp on reality. He would be sent finally to the land beyond without her.  
  
Normally, this would be no problem. He would be able to live with only a slight connection to feed him strength. In fact, in normal times it was best to keep space between the bond-holder and himself. But it had been so long since he'd had full strength, he was unable to manifest a corporeal form the way he normally could. He was trapped in this God-forsaken place.  
  
His luck had held out though. She had returned.  
  
Not willing to trust to luck again, he had taken his chance, draining the rest of her life force in one swoop. It would sustain him, give him the ability to manifest so he could find another human to tie himself too.  
  
In fact, not long ago there had been another flicker of life in the stairwell. He hadn't been ready, still absorbing as much of the life from the girl as he could. He'd missed his chance to make a bond. The flicker had left before he could see what it was.  
  
He wouldn't miss his chance again.  


* * *

  
A few hours later, Dean was helping Sam with some of the research. Sam was sitting to the side on a book while Dean paged through the history of the area the killing had taken place. So far, neither of them had had any luck finding a candidate for a vengeful spirit.  
  
Tired, Dean pushed his chair back, dragging a hand down his face. Sam jerked in surprise at the movement, recovering smoothly. Dean gave him a sheepish smile. He always forgot how alarming he could be by accident.  
  
"What's the matter?" Sam asked.  
  
"I feel like we're running in circles here.... there's nothing that would indicate a haunting at all. And no crazy bitches in the area that might have hexed her." Dean folded his hands under his chin, leaning against the table. "I was thinking I could run back up to her apartment tonight. If there's a spirit, it might not be active during the day, and only the most powerful spirits have EMF that lasts an entire day or more without them around."  
  
"So, what... you just want to run up there in the middle of the night?"  
  
Dean shrugged. "I just feel like I need to be  _doing._  If someone else dies because we're just... sitting around, useless..."  
  
Sam scowled at the thought. "I know how you feel. But what if it’s not a vengeful spirit? You might be walking into something neither of us is prepared for."  
  
"And that's why you're going to stay here," Dean said. He nudged Sam lightly with a finger, almost knocking the little guy over. Giving Sam an abashed look, he went on, "You keep getting your research-fu on, and if you find anything, you can give me a call." Dean pulled a phone out of his pocket, setting it near Sam. "If I leave it open, do you think you can make a call with this?"  
  
Sam stood up and walked over. The phone was almost the same size as him, with buttons only slightly larger than his boots. With Dean's encouragement, he stepped on a button. The phone lit right up. He stared back up at Dean with a proud grin. "Guess I can. How do you make a call?"  
  
Dean showed him the buttons to hit, and how to hang the phone up. Afterwards he gave Sam the number of the burner phone he was keeping on him for the duration of the case. It was the phone with the number he'd given Sera if she remembered anything to tell him about her sister. The phone he was leaving with Sam was his main phone, with the number he rarely gave out to anyone, unless he trusted them completely. His dad and a few other friends were the only ones with it, making it far less likely that someone could use it to track down the phone, and by extension, Sam. Dean couldn't afford to put Sam in any danger when he wasn't around.  
  
And Dean would never admit it to Sam, but it was friggin' adorable watching his teeny little brother use electronics bigger than he was. Sam was so proud that he could use the phone.  
  
Only once he was certain Sam would be alright without him did Dean get ready to go. Since he still didn't know what they were dealing with, he tried to keep as many different types of weapons on himself as possible. He would be prepared for anything.  
  
Sam ended up moving to the bed while Dean was getting ready. Dean watched carefully when he saw his brother climb down from the table, keeping an eye out. Sam was definitely getting braver around Dean. He didn't even flinch when Dean passed by him, one boot hitting the ground with a thud less than a foot away. It gave Dean hope that he wasn't ruining his chances of earning Sam's trust with all the times he’d accidentally scared his brother.  
  
Once he was ready to go, Dean moved the laptop over to the bed near Sam and left the phone lying open on the nightstand. "Alright, if anything comes up or you find anything on what's going on at the apartments, give me a call, okay?"  
  
Sam waved him away from his place on the bed. "You know I will." He nodded at the laptop. "I've got a few more ideas to check into."  
  
With a smirk, Dean gave Sam a noogie, messing up his long hair with a careful finger. "Stay safe, Sammy."  
  
Sam fell over backwards trying to fend off the massive finger with muttered curses directed up at Dean.   
  
With that, Dean left Sam alone in the room, locking the door behind him.  
  
The moment he stepped away from the room, the familiar guilt set into him at leaving his brother alone. No matter how many times Sam assured Dean he could take care of himself, Dean knew that wasn't completely true. All it would take was someone getting their hands on Sam and he would be helpless. Sam was a genius when it came to finding places to hide, but if he'd been caught before, he could be caught again. And the next time it happened, there was a good chance they wouldn't let him go the way Dean had.   
  
The moment Dean had realized what was in his hand, he'd panicked, afraid of hurting Sam. His hand had opened on reflex, accidently dropping Sam several inches to the floor. Luckily, Sam hadn't been hurt, though he had taken advantage of those seconds to escape from Dean, running away as fast as he could.  
  
No, if someone else got their hands on Sam, they'd probably never let him go. Sam would end up trapped, maybe even hurt depending on the type of person that got ahold of him. Dean needed to make sure that never happened. What good was he if he couldn't even protect his little brother?  
  
Pushing those thoughts away, Dean focused back on the case. It had to be one of the odder cases he'd ever worked on. Every part of it pointed to a vengeful spirit being what had killed the girl... except two things. The way she'd died (he'd never heard of a spirit stealing life from a human like that) and the lack of any violent deaths in the area’s history. There weren’t even any clues in their father’s journal. Both Sam and Dean had checked through it earlier on in the day, hopeful for some answers.  
  
No monsters they were familiar with killed like that. There were no marks on the girl’s body at all. And not finding anyone with a grudge against her in the area deepened the mystery.  
  
He climbed into the Impala, quickly finding his way through the town to the apartment complex. This time of night most of the lights were off in the rooms, leaving the lobby and the stairwell two of the only places that were lit up anymore. Double checking that his flashlight was in his jacket, Dean put the car in park.  
  
Without Sam sitting on his shoulder, Dean didn't have to be as careful with his movements. It felt odd now, after spending so long with his brother by his side. He gave a tiny grin. Maybe if this all went smooth, he'd even have a bit of time to stop at a bar before last call. He hadn't been to one since finding Sam for the first time a little over a month ago.  _That_  was a strange thought. He used to go out every night if he could. In the days before Sam, at least.  
  
He climbed out of the car, sticking the keys in his jacket pocket. The complex didn't need a key to get into like some apartment buildings, so he got inside easily. He pulled out the EMF meter as soon as he entered the lobby.  
  
Taking a breath to prepare, Dean had one hand on his handgun as he opened the door to the stairwell. He glanced up at the stairs circling over his head, trying to see if anyone else was in there with him.  
  
Nothing.  
  
He held the EMF meter in front of him as he started up the first flight of stairs, keeping an eye on the lights that would show any spirit activity. His other hand he kept on his gun, prepared for anything. During the first two flights of stairs, nothing happened. The world was quiet and dark, the silence almost smothering him in the still air.  
  
On the third flight of stairs, something changed.  
  
Dean smoothed down the hairs on his arms, suddenly uncomfortable. There was something... different... now. He paused on the stairs for a moment, listening. Nothing but silence.  
  
Starting back up again, he became aware of something different, a new noise...  
  
_Tap... Tap... Tap..._  
  
Dean froze on the stairs. The gun was in his grip in an instant.   
  
Silence.  
  
His eyes panned across the stairwell, searching for the source of the tapping. Nothing was there. Not even a slight change in the still air.  
  
Once he was certain there was nothing there, he continued up. His eyes were continually scanning, hoping to catch sight of whatever was in there with him. He was certain it was now stalking him ruthlessly. Thank God Sam wasn't with him. One less thing to worry about. Sam was too fragile to get caught up in a fight with Dean.  
  
As he continued, the tapping resumed, relentless in its following. Exactly what Sera had told them her sister had heard following her the weeks before her death.  
  
_Tap... Tap... Tap... Tap..._  
  
Dean stiffened, continuing up even as it followed him. If it stopped when he stopped, there would be no way for him to find it unless he was moving. He steadied his gait, smoothing into the natural stalk of a hunter. It continued after him, growing in intensity.  
  
As he neared the door at the end of the third flight of stairs, Dean could almost  _feel_  it behind him, getting closer with every move. He could feel it  _breathing..._  
  
Knowing this was his chance, Dean whipped around, bringing his gun to bear before he’d twisted around all the way.  
  
He froze in surprise at what was there.   
  
The instant of hesitation cost him everything. It slammed a fist into his head, knocking him to the ground.  
  
Dean blinked blearily up at it as it tied his hands together and started to drag him up the last few stairs with an inhuman strength. His head thunked against the stairs as he was dragged along. He was going to have some spectacular bruises when this was all over. The creature grinned down at him. It grinned with his own smile, stared at him his own  _eyes..._  
  
A monster stood over the hunter's collapsed body with Dean Winchester's face, grinning down at the prey it had baited into its trap. It raised a fist over the hunter's head, slamming down with unrestrained force.  
  
Dean blacked out.

* * *

 

**A/N**

If anyone's interested, [Pizza and Hexbags](http://archiveofourown.org/works/3587853/chapters/7912080), by PL1 is based on the Brothers Apart AU. I highly recommend giving it a read, it's fantastic!


	4. Being Prepared

An hour into waiting for Dean to come back, Sam wasn’t worried.  
  
It wasn’t the first time he’d been alone in a room for an extended period of time. Dean went out on his own on occasion, mostly when Sam argued against going. One of the main things he liked to stay behind for was when Dean went to a restaurant. Sam had gone to one diner since being this size, and he’d spent almost the whole time jumping at every noise. People were everywhere, and the waitress had been around constantly, trying to flirt with Dean. Sam hated to be around anyone other than Dean when he was this size, since he honestly had no real way to defend himself. Dean was his only protection in that kind of situation and even Dean sometimes didn't realize all the dangers there were for Sam.  
  
He’d spent most of the time so far that night researching. He went back all the way to before the complex had been built, trying to find if there had been any violent deaths before the building had been a spark in some architects eye. No luck on that front. And so far he hadn’t found any monsters that were invisible and killed in the same way as whatever this freak was. There were quite a few that were life sucking, but add "invisible" to that and the list went down to zero.  
  
Giving up for a while, Sam sat back and watched the TV for a bit. He flicked between stations until settling on some mindless sitcom. It filled the room with constant background noise while he flopped down on the pillow. He could always go to sleep under the nightstand… but there was something holding him back.   
  
He just had this feeling that Dean needed him… that he couldn’t let his brother down.   
  
Because of this, Sam ended up back on the computer after less than fifteen minutes, going over the same information all over again. He needed to make sure to get this right for Dean, considering the human hunter was out there right now, maybe risking his life without Sam there to back him up.  
  
_Maybe that’s how he wants it… he doesn’t have to watch after me right now, or be extra careful with his movements as long as I’m here without him… I'm holding him back..._  
  
No matter how hard he tried, Sam couldn’t push those thoughts away. Dean had been in a hurry to leave him there, maybe he didn’t want Sam around at all…  
  
Sitting down on the laptop, Sam let his head drop to his chest. It was depressing to think, but he just couldn’t get rid of it. Every day he was with his brother at this size Sam couldn’t stop from thinking he was just a burden.  
  
Closing out of his searches, Sam opened up the last line of inquiry he’d been following on his curse the day before. The problem was, nothing he could find in his ever widening search linked curses to souls. From what he could find, the witch shouldn’t have been able to curse him or any of the other children in the first place. Any type of magic that was associated with souls in the lore belonged to demons or their kin. Even though witches borrowed their powers from demons, they never actually had the ability to manipulate souls themselves.  
  
So how had she done it?  
  
And even more disturbing, if it was linked to his soul itself, would the curse stay tied to him even in death?  
  
Sam couldn’t help but worry that he would spend the rest of time with this hanging over him - to always be afraid of humans, even though he’d once been one. To forever be apart, even from his brother. He’d never be able to do simple things, like sit in a restaurant or go to a movie. Sam sighed. Maybe he’d be better off finding people like him to live with. Stop being a burden on Dean once and for all.  
  
Dean would never hear any of this. Sam knew that no matter what, his brother would say that it didn’t matter how small Sam was. He would always be  _family,_  and nothing else mattered.   
  
But did Dean even believe it?  
  
It was another two hours before Sam realized how much time had passed. His research online had turned up no new leads on either his curse or the death of Marie. He sat back from the computer with a sigh, rubbing his neck. He glanced over at the alarm clock, staring blankly at the bright red numbers that stood half his height. It was a few minutes before the time sunk into his brain.  
  
**03:05 a.m.**  
  
Frowning, Sam stared at the phone left alone on the nightstand. It wasn’t like Dean to leave Sam alone in the room for so long. Trying to push down the lump of fear growing in his stomach, Sam jumped over to the nightstand, glad it was pushed close enough for the bed for him to reach.  
  
_Dean's in trouble._  
  
The thought wouldn't go away.  
  
He pulled out the slip of paper he had folded up in his jacket, flattening it out. In Dean’s large, blocky handwriting was his phone number. He tried to stomp it flat with his boots but only partially succeeded, the thick paper curling up at the edges.  
  
Giving up on that, Sam leaned over the phone, pressing down hard with his palm. The screen lit up, brightly illuminating the area Sam was standing in. It took him a minute to put the entire phone number in. The keys weren’t exactly easy to manipulate when they were bigger than his hand.  
  
Finally the number was in and he hit  **SEND**.  


* * *

  
Dean groaned as the world slowly came back into focus.  
  
He blinked his eyes a few times, trying to concentrate on where he was. His face was drenched in sweat from the heat he was sitting in. It beaded on his eyelashes, making it hard to see.  
  
After a few minutes sitting there, he finally figured out his surroundings. He was sitting in Marie’s apartment. His hands were tied tightly in front of him, and a second rope was wrapped around his arms, securing Dean to a column in the kitchen.  
  
He started to struggle, checking to see how tight the restraints were. He could feel his weapons in his jacket. All he had to do was reach them and he’d be able to cut himself free… The knife he remembered slipping up his sleeve earlier that day was gone, its absence leaving Dean trapped and vulnerable.  
  
Struggling there for a few minutes, he froze when he heard a small guitar riff cut through the room. He’d recognize that ringtone anywhere… his phone must be nearby. Sam was the only one likely to call... was he alright? Had something happened? What if somebody'd found him in the room, all alone and defenseless?  
  
Trying to ignore the fear that clenched at him, Dean tried to shift his jacket, hoping to get the phone to fall out of a pocket. But no luck. The ropes around his arms that secured him to the pole were too tight for him to be able to reach the phone the way he was trapped.  
  
While the phone was still going off, Dean realized he could hear footsteps approaching. He directed a glare at the doorway in front of him, spotting a shadow moving beyond the entry. Sure enough, a few seconds later, a booted foot stepped through, into the room.  
  
Dean stopped struggling in shock. After getting hit in the head, he’d thought he’d imagined it. But no. There was definitely another Dean Winchester standing there in front of him. Same green-eyed glare, same short hair, same snarky smile… every detail perfect. Even the clothes. It was like looking into a mirror.  
  
Dean’s eyes shot to his own body, remembering how the shapeshifter in St. Louis had stolen his clothing while impersonating him. But he was still fully clothed, right down to the matching pair of boots to what the man in front of him was wearing.  
  
“What the hell are  _you?”_  Dean growled out. He realized in the back of his mind that the phone had stopped ringing.  
  
The creature met him, familiar green-eyed glare to the matching green-eyed glare. Crouching down next to Dean it leaned in close. “Wouldn’t  _you_  like to know,” he said with a dark chuckle. “I know what you are. Hunter. Killer.”  
  
Dean arched his eyes. “And you might be a handsome devil, but it takes a little more than some rope to stop me, shapeshifter.”  
  
The Dean-alike stood back up, smirking down at Dean. “Oh,  _that’s_  what you think I am? That’s so funny, I forgot to laugh.”  
  
Dean frowned. The last time he’d encountered a shapeshifter, it had been able to use some type of mental link so it could perfectly mimic his mannerisms and had even gained access to his memory. Whatever this  _thing_ was, it wasn’t talking anything like Dean. Its voice was off, its movements were rough, unformed. Which was a good sign, especially if it couldn’t read his mind. Sam was in the motel room, completely unprotected. And this  _thing_  had his face.  
  
Dean-alike walked over to him, bending down. It started to go through his pockets, forcefully pushing his bound arms out of the way. Dean hissed in pain when they were twisted the wrong way. "Get away from me, you evil son of a bitch!" Dean growled angrily.   
  
The creature wearing his face ignored his shots expressionlessly. A pile built up next to the two of them, guns, silver knife... it only took out his weapons. The salt and sawed-off shells were left in the pockets, the creature snorting with disgust when it found them. It discarded his flashlight with a shrug, tossing it aside.  
  
It grinned when it pulled out his phone, car keys and motel key. With the address of the motel on it. Dean tensed.  
  
“Well, I have to say this must be my lucky night. Not only did I catch a hunter, but you must have an arsenal hidden where you’re staying. I’ve tussled with a few other hunters in my time, but was never lucky enough to link to one like this.” He smirked at Dean with an all too familiar smile. “And since I'm you... No one will even question me going into your room." He winked at Dean. "I’ll be back in a bit. Don't go anywhere."  
  
Dean started to struggle with greater ferocity. He couldn’t let this thing go back to the motel with his face… all he could see was Sam, so small and unprotected, left on his own. By Dean.  
  
The creature leaned down, pressing a hand to Dean’s chest. He hissed when it touched him. It was like all the life was sapping from him, weakening him… the longer the hand was against him, the worse it got. He slumped down. His chin hit his chest and Dean slipped away into unconsciousness once more.  
  
The creature stared down at his work and smiled.  


* * *

  
Sam was sitting next to the phone not long after the call failed to connect with Dean. He was leaning against the alarm clock with his arms wrapped around his knees, his head buried in them. The worry he felt for his brother was almost overpowering. Dean would  _never_  leave a phone call from Sam hanging, not as paranoid as he was with his miniature brother.  _Something bad must have happened to him… he might be hurt, unconscious…_  Sam couldn’t bring himself to even think the word  _dead_  in his mind. There was no way for Sam to check, or find out, or even search for Dean like this…  
  
He was useless.  
  
Dean needed him and he couldn't even get out of the damn room.  
  
A little while later, he heard huge footsteps outside the door to the motel room. Sam relaxed, recognizing Dean’s familiar, towering silhouette standing outside.  _Now_  he could find out why Dean hadn't answered. A key jingled in the lock as the door opened, right when Sam realized there had never been any knocks…  
  
Sam dove off the nightstand, accidentally tripping over the phone with a foot during his panic. The cell phone clattered to the ground with a loud thump at the same time as Sam slid down the alarm clock cord, getting out of sight as fast as he could.  
  
Sam could clearly remember the day Dean came up with the knocking system...   
  
_“If I don’t knock on the door twice, no matter what, even if I'm alone, DO NOT come out from hiding. Not until I give you the signal. You need to stay safe, and if something happens to me, I could be just as dangerous to you as any monster.” In the memory, Dean lifts up a hand, holding it next to Sam for comparison. It stretches out almost twice Sam’s length. Each of the fingers is thick and strong, all more powerful than the smaller hunter. “I don’t ever want to hurt you with these, and if I get possessed by a demon, the first thing they’ll do is go for you.” The hand wraps around Sam unexpectedly, pinning his arms to his sides with unrelenting strength. There is no time for Sam to react to the hunter’s quick movements.  
  
Sam has only been with his older brother for a day at this point, and he stares up at Dean from the clenched fist with fear in his eyes. The only thing that keeps him from freaking out from the way he's trapped is the pain in Dean’s eyes… the worry, the self-loathing for what he's doing. Dean clearly wants nothing more than to keep Sam safe, even as he closes his huge hand firmly around his little brother's fragile body.  
  
So even though Sam desperately wants to thrash and struggle, to try and escape, he stills himself in Dean's overpowering grasp. As Sam is helplessly lifted up off the table, he gives his trust to Dean, hoping it isn’t misplaced. He can clearly remember how it had felt when Dean had no idea who he was, capturing him with ease in the same immense hand clenched around his body now.  
  
The hand stops a few inches in front of Dean’s face, fingers opening up around Sam. He scrambles to a stand in the palm, small chest heaving from the unexpected scare. He can't help but eye his brother's fingers suspiciously from where he stands, still within their clutches. It is an unwanted reminder of how powerless he is next to his brother.   
  
Dean’s eyes stared at him with a kind expression. “Sam, the last thing I want is for you to EVER be afraid of me. But it’s more important that you understand that anything can happen, and if anything ever happens to you because of me, I’ll never forgive myself.”   
  
Sam frowns, but nods his understanding.  
  
Dean's other hand lifts up, gently rubbing Sam’s back to try and reassure him after the scare. Sam can't stop a shiver, standing there helpless between those huge hands that can so easily trap or crush him. Which, after Dean's demonstration he understands better than ever. Dean's face falls when he sees this. He nods sadly at Sam as he lowers his hand back to his side, understanding and accepting his reaction.  
  
But it still hurts him to see his brother afraid._  
  
...Sam slammed into the ground with more force than he’d meant to, hitting the ground running. The last time he’d been trapped behind a nightstand hadn’t gone well, and he had no intention of repeating that experience.  
  
Ducking under the bed, Sam watched as the huge boots stomped into the room. A frown crossed his face as he watched. Something felt… off about the whole deal. He had a nagging feeling in the back of his mind that just wouldn't leave while he ran and hid.  
  
Crouching down next to the leg of the bed, Sam watched as the boots went towards the table. He heard a huge thump as Dean dropped something down far over Sam's head. The boots swept across the floor, clearing the distance to the nightstand in seconds.  
  
Sam couldn't help a shiver when he watched this. Dean hadn't once checked for Sam, called his name... nothing. The boots were moving far faster than Sam was used to. Far faster than he could ever hope to escape from. Dean could easily step on Sam if he left the safety of the bed and not even realize it until it was too late.  
  
Sam swallowed.  
  
Something was wrong.  
  
Sam crept to the edge of the bed, peering up at the giant hunter. Dean was going through one of the bags he'd left in the room, tossing all the clothing out carelessly onto the floor. He didn't even seem concerned that items were flying in the room that could potentially hurt his little brother. A pair of socks hit the ground a few inches from Sam, making him jump in surprise as they rolled under the bed. He recovered in time to see a victorious smile cross Dean's face as he retrieved an item from the bag.   
  
He had his hand wrapped around a handgun.   
  
Several tense minutes passed with similar results. Dean pulled out all the weapons he'd stashed in the room before leaving earlier, and for some reason he acted surprised with each one he found. It wasn't until the huge hunter crossed the room walking towards the bathroom that Sam realized what was bothering him so much.  
  
Dean's walk.  
  
Normally, Dean had a casual, bow-legged walk. For Sam, the familiarity of that walk reassured him even when Dean's footsteps shook the floor under him. Since coming back to the room, his gait had changed. He took longer, smoother steps that Sam had never seen from his brother.  
  
Sam blinked in realization.  
  
It might be Dean in front of him... but Dean  _wasn't_  Dean... not right now.   
  
Sam combed his memory for anything that could have taken Dean's form, or stolen his body. Demonic possession was the obvious choice... they'd encountered a demon on Sam's first hunt, and expertly dispatched it as a team. Dean had played the bait, tussling with the demon as Sam performed the exorcism. But his exorcisms were in his satchel, which right now was tucked under the nightstand with the rest of his stuff. Sam was glad that whatever Dean was right now, he hadn't found anything that might let him know Sam was hiding in the room. It hadn't paid any mind to the area under the nightstand with the huge books blocking all Sam's stuff from view.  
  
Another possibility was a shapeshifter. Sam had listened to Dean's recounting of his last encounter with a shapeshifter that had managed to take his form, off in St. Louis a few months back. According to Dean, he'd had to call the police on himself to stop it from killing an innocent woman while wearing his face. Leaving Dean Winchester presumed dead and buried when he killed it.  
  
In this case, Sam doubted it was a shapeshifter. One thing Dean had mentioned was a mental link, giving the creature access to his thoughts and memories. If that was happening, the thing wearing his brother's face should have found Sam with little trouble... Sam had a difficult time hiding from Dean with his brother's senses enhanced by years of hunting on his own. Dean always seemed to know where Sam was, no matter the circumstances. Not to mention, it should have known about the knocking on the door in the first place. Sam wouldn't have had any idea he was in trouble until it was too late.   
  
Grabbing on to the most likely scenario, Sam dug in his memories for what he could do to find out if his brother was possessed. Since he didn't remember the exorcism off the top of his head yet (after today, he was going to have to work on memorizing that, pronto), and no access to holy water, he chose the next best thing.  
  
Watching the massive boots thud out of the bathroom in his direction again, Sam gulped, knowing how easily he could end up crushed beneath them if this went south. That was one of his greatest fears.  
  
As carefully as possible, he crept to the edge of the bed, trying to stay in the protective shadows underneath. If it had been terrifying to be held in Dean's clutches, a monster with Dean's face would be a million times worse. Dean he would trust his life to, any day. He peered up at the thing wearing his brother's face and focused.  
  
With a muttered hiss, Sam said  _"Christo!"_  as soft as he could. As long as the word was uttered in the demon’s presence, it shouldn’t matter how loud it was spoken.  
  
There was no reaction.   
  
Sam blinked in surprise. That  _should_  have worked... no demon could stand the name of God spoken in their presence. Which meant this wasn't a demon... and it was most likely not a shapeshifter... what the hell was standing there in his brother's boots?  
  
It  _couldn't_  be Dean... not the way he was acting... right?  
  
A boot slammed into the ground bare inches away from Sam, making him stumble back fearfully. The sheer power it hit the ground with made Sam shake nervously. Being around Dean so much had made him forget how terrifying it was too be near other humans, humans that could kill him by accident or catch him. Scrambling away from the boot he froze, staring up to see if the thing wearing Dean’s face had noticed the movement by his feet.  
  
There was no follow up, so he let himself relax a little. From the sounds above him, it was putting things into the duffel bag Dean took with him everywhere.  
  
Seconds later, the massive hunter bent down, peering under the bed. Sam cowered against one of the legs, shoulders shaking fearfully. Hot breath wafted past Sam's hiding spot. A huge arm reached past him, pushing the socks out of the way so it could see everything. Sam peeked out from behind his hiding place barely breathing. His breath hitched in surprise at what he saw.  
  
Dean was... it was like he was looking into a mirror image of his brother. His hair swept the wrong direction, his smirk was on the opposite side. Everything about Dean screamed WRONG inside Sam's head like an alarm. All the details he saw on a daily basis were slightly different, slightly  _wrong._  
  
Not finding what he wanted, Dean gave a huge sigh. The hand planted next to Sam's hiding place shoved heavily against the ground, the hunter standing back up to his full, imposing height.  
  
After his close call Sam slipped back under the bed, going to the darkest area. He hid behind one of the legs next to the wall, keeping an ear out. There was still nothing from Dean letting him know his brother was still in there. He hid his head in his arms, trying to block out the world shaking around him. Tried to ignore the imposter’s earthquake.  
  
After what felt like forever, but was most likely around a half hour, the  _thing_  wearing a reflection of his brother's face left the room, letting the door close with a  _snick._  The familiar rumble of the Impala started up, sounding angry that she was being driven by an imitation of her beloved driver.  
  
Sam slipped out from under the bed, going to the nightstand with his stuff. He didn't waste any time grabbing his satchel again, reassured by its weight against his side. Now that he had his journal, he felt a bit better. He'd have to go over it, see if there were any other freaks that fit the bill he might had forgotten. Otherwise, the only other option was his brother was lost to him... and Sam could never let himself believe that.  


* * *

  
Twenty minutes later, Sam was no closer to an answer. Nothing he'd studied yet sounded anything close to what he'd seen that he hadn't already thought of.   
  
Not to mention, there was no way for him to get to the apartment complex to help Dean. It was the last place he knew for sure his brother had gone. He  _needed_  to help Dean, and here he was, with no way to travel. He couldn't even hitchhike his way there.   
  
_Fan-fucking-tastic._  
  
_Now what?_  he thought to himself, dejected. He had no way to help his brother from there. Dean would have to get himself out of this jam alone.  
  
_Wait a minute..._  Sam's eyes fell on the human hunter's cell phone, still abandoned on the floor from when Sam had tripped over it earlier on. It was lying there, wide open with the buttons exposed. Lucky.  
  
Sudden hope filled him.  _He_  might not be able to help his brother, but other hunters could! Sam could remember Dean talking about a few other hunters on occasion when he was recounting his old hunts. A few of their father's friends, a few hunters Sam could remember meeting when he was growing up. One face rose to the front.   
  
Bobby.   
  
One of the most steadfast, dependable people Dean and Sam had been around growing up. When John was out on longer hunts, the older hunter would watch the boys. In fact, some of those memories were some of the most precious he'd had growing up. Bobby had often come across as more of a father than his own dad. If anyone would help it would be him.  
  
Sam ran over to the phone, determined to do this to help his brother. There was no other option. His stomach twisted at the thought of talking to another hunter. He'd had a hard enough time getting up the courage to tell Dean to call their dad... and he hadn't talked to him at all that time. This time...  
  
Reaching the phone, Sam skidded to a stop. He kicked the power button, knowing there was no time to spare if Dean was in trouble. He paged through Dean's list of contacts. There were a few hunters Dean had mentioned... a few girls’ names...  _figures..._  some names Sam didn't recognize. Reaching Bobby's number at last (under Singer, Bobby), he hit  **SEND**  with forceful determination.  
  
_Ring...Ring..._  
  
There was a click on the other line.  _"Hello?"_  came a familiar, gruff voice. Sam couldn't help but smile at the voice and the memories it brought to mind - some of the happiest times of his life had been at Bobby's.  
  
_"Dean? You there?"_  the voice continued talking to the silence.  
  
Sam froze.  
  
Fear jumped in him again. What if Bobby didn't believe him? Hung up when he found it wasn't Dean on the line? A million scenarios ran through his mind. Then of course there was the problem of Bobby believing him and coming... leaving Sam at the mercy of yet another hunter when he arrived. Just because he'd been a friend when Sam was a kid didn't mean he wasn't dangerous now... there was no way to know how he'd react to Sam, and without Dean around, he was defenseless.  
  
Damn he hated being this vulnerable. Hated the way he relied on Dean with anything relating to his old life as a human.  
  
_"Dean, if this is one of them prank phone calls again, I outta wallop you upside the head..."_  
  
Sam couldn't stop a snort of laughter at that. That certainly sounded like his brother.  
  
_"...Dean, is everythin' alright? You're worrying me, boy."_  
  
A few moments of silence passed while Sam and the phone continued their silent staring contest. He just couldn't get past the size problem. Couldn't bring himself to willingly ask a  _hunter_  to come help him out...  _Shit, Sam. Dean's in trouble! You need to get him help!_ But before he could work up the courage for the words to roll off his tongue...  
  
_"...Balls!"_  A click signaled the other line hanging up.  
  
Sam jumped at the angry tone coming over the line. His shoulders slumped the moment the call ended. What the hell was he supposed to do now?  
  
_Dean..._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What's this? Sammy's calling in backup? But Bobby doesn't even know you're alive Sam, or that you're 4 inches tall! What are you thinking? What will come of this?!


	5. A Leap of Faith

Quarter to twelve in the morning, Bobby rolled up to the motel in his Chevelle. After driving six hours straight to where Dean's GPS signal was coming from, the car was practically groaning at him in annoyance. But if something had happened to the boy, Bobby'd never forgive himself if he could have done something to help. That boy was like a son to him.  
  
He scanned the parking lot, searching for the familiar silhouette of the Impala that had been with the Winchesters since before he'd ever run across that brash hunter named John. A foolish man on the best days, John was stubborn to a fault and foolhardy. The only redeeming factor to John had been the young boys tailing after him. Dean and little Sammy... Bobby smiled when he remembered that first day he'd seen them, walking behind their dad, eyes full of youthful wonder when they'd seen the junkyard spread out in front of them.  
  
Dean, especially, had loved to tinker on the cars, learning the ins and outs of repair from John and Bobby over the years. Bobby hadn't been surprised when the boy had inherited the classic '67.  
  
Bobby frowned. The Impala wasn't in sight. He double-checked the phone, making sure he was in the right area. The signal coming from Dean's phone was still originating from the motel room. It hadn't moved an inch. He narrowed down the pointer, managing to pick out the room the signal was coming from. Parking the Chevelle outside, he stepped up to the door. It was locked, leaving him to dig out his own lockpick. A hunters essential, right up there with silver and salt.  
  
In less than a minute, the door was open. Checking his surroundings to see if he was being tailed, he slipped into the room. The door clicked shut softly behind him.   
  
Inside, the room was motionless. A laptop Bobby recognized as Dean's was sitting on the second bed, while on the table the remains of a meal was strewn across one side. No weapons were anywhere to be seen. Aside from that, nothing jumped out at him as out of the ordinary.   
  
Bobby frowned. The phone call was still bothering him. If anything had happened to Dean, surely there would have been a better way to get a message out for help. And the hunter didn't even seem to be in the room... so why was his phone still here?  
  
Bobby walked through, checking the area around the beds and in the bathroom. There was still nothing there. He grunted in annoyance. If there were any clues here, they certainly weren't jumping out at him. He walked over to the table, picking up a discarded newspaper from the seat of a chair. The front page was about the death of a young girl from the same town he was in. He checked the address. In fact, where she'd died was less than five miles away. That couldn't be a coincidence...  
  
Bobby's thoughts were pulled away when his eyes fell on a tiny little object, out of place on the nightstand.  _What the hell?_  he thought to himself, confused. If he didn't know any better...  
  
Checking his feet, he stepped over to the nightstand, bending down so he could see it better. It was a tiny, intricate bag. A tiny strap that seemed well worn, held shut by almost invisible metal clasps. A human’s hands would never be able to open it without destroying the miniature object. Bobby carefully pinched the little strap between two fingers. The leather it was made of was soft between his fingers, well-made. In fact, it was almost professionally made. Small signs of wear showed on the straps, little stretch marks from frequent use.  
  
It was far too intricate to have been made by human hands. Too  _detailed_  be made for a dollhouse.  
  
He squinted down at it with a frown. "What the hell..." Bobby repeated, muttered out loud this time.  
  
He folded his hand around the bag, keeping it safe. Once done, he glanced around the room. Dean, being John's son, was the last person he'd have ever expected to find traveling with a little... something wasn't right here.  
  
A tiny worm of fear hit Bobby. What if Dean wasn't traveling with them? What if he'd...  
  
He pushed away those thoughts. He knew that boy. Dean may have been John's son, but he didn't have the same blind anger towards anything supernatural that his daddy had. He was a quick student, much better at figuring out who his enemies truly were then John had ever been. John still had a habit of charging in half-cocked, even after all the years he'd been a hunter. Dean had surpassed him in more ways than one in Bobby's mind. And if Dean was traveling with someone like that, as far-fetched as it might seem for the tall, imposing hunter, it would go a long way towards explaining that phone call he'd received earlier that morning that had set off this unexpected trip.  
  
Bobby straightened, still holding the bag in his fist. "I know you're in here," he said simply, speaking to the air. It was just a guess, a leap, but he had nothing to lose.  
  
For a second, he thought he heard a small jump of surprise. His eyes tracked the sound to behind the picture on the nightstand. He spotted a small shadow he hadn't noticed before, trying to keep down, out of sight. Stuck there with only a picture frame for cover and no way down.  
  
His heart sank, realizing he must have frightened them. Having a huge human stomping around in the room without knowing you were there... he understood how that must feel. And even worse was the vulnerability that came from being so small and defenseless near a human that knew you were there. There was no way for them to know he'd never harm them. "Now, I ain't askin' ya ta come out." At these words the tiny shadow moved, daring enough to peek from behind the frame. Bobby took his eyes away, staring around the room as though he had no idea they were there. It was the best way to gain their trust - meeting a human eye to eye freaked out even the hardiest little.    
  
"I'm guessin' you're my mystery caller though, aren'tcha?"  
  
He took a few steps to the nightstand, carefully placing the bag right next to the picture frame as a peace offering. He could only hope the intent would come across as he watched the tiny shadow cringe away from the side he placed the bag on. "I don't know why you're with Dean, but if you're worried about him or he's gotten himself into trouble, I can help." He stared hopefully at the nightstand. "I just need to know where to look for him."  
  
A minute passed after he finished talking, completely silent. He was about to give up and go back to the table, leaving them in peace, when he saw a small hand with almost microscopic fingers reach out from behind the nightstand. It grabbed the bag, taking it quickly out of sight. Practically holding his breath at the sight, Bobby edged a little closer. He always forgot how damn  _small_  they were, no matter how many times he'd run across them in the past. And completely harmless, in all his years of hunting.  
  
It was another minute before a different voice cut through the room, small and trembling. "You swear you won't grab me?"  
  
Bobby smiled, knowing that meant the tiny, hidden (well, sort of hidden) person was willing to give trust a try. "Never saw the need before."  
  
The little shadow moved as the person stood up, turning around to face Bobby. A slight shock went through him for a second, as surprised as he always was when someone so small and vulnerable was willing to trust a human. Especially considering what other humans had put them through in the past. Bobby always understood when they wanted nothing to do with him. After all, he knew he'd have a hard time talking to someone that could be dangerous by accident himself.  
  
And then a larger shock went through him when the boy started talking.  
  
"Bobby? It's me. Sam."  


* * *

  
Sam couldn't help cowering behind the picture frame when the door swept open for the second time that day without any knocks.  _Shit, shit, shit!_  he thought to himself helplessly. Caught out, not once but twice. He was having a rotten run of luck this week. This time, there hadn't even been any warning, so he didn't have enough time to get under cover without being seen. So, the picture frame - the only cover that was on the nightstand that would block him from view - had been where he'd run.  
  
The door clicked shut, followed by the footsteps of a human. He daringly peeked out from behind the nightstand, peering at the new human. His mouth went dry when he saw who it was.   
  
Worn jacket. Trucker cap. Scruffy beard.  
  
Bobby.   
  
Older and more worn than the last time Sam had seen him as a child, but still recognizable. The older hunter was shorter than Dean, but still towered over Sam. Naturally. His eyes swept across the room, just as intense a gaze as Dean ever had. Clearly the hunter was searching for something.  
  
That phone call must have made him suspicious enough to investigate what was going on. Sam had brought Dean help, but at what cost to himself? Anything could happen with a human - anything at all. All he had on himself was his silver knife for protection. He didn't even have his bag... it was out of reach across the nightstand. In plain view. He'd never be able to reach it without being seen.  
  
For a bit, the human searched around the room. He didn't come near the nightstand, to Sam's great relief. When he sat down at the table, reading over the article on Marie's death, Sam relaxed a hair. He might actually make it out of this in one piece.  
  
When the huge footsteps started up again, this time clearly heading for the nightstand, Sam realized he might have spoken too soon. Out of the edge of sight, he saw a massive hand descend to the surface, scooping up his tiny bag into its grasp.  _No!_  Sam cried out in his mind. Everything important to him was in that bag... his journal, the tools he used every day to survive in such a large world, the water orb from Nixie... and now a hunter had it all in his hand, pinched between massive fingers. One wrong move could destroy all Sam's most important possessions. Everything he had in this life that wasn't clothing or his knife.  
  
Sam shivered, knowing he had to let it go. Better the bag than getting caught himself. Maybe the human would just put it down... it wasn't like it would do Bobby any good, anyway. Everything in it was too small for him to use, if not too small to see in some cases, from what Dean had told him. All irreplaceable to Sam.  
  
The human straightened, towering over the nightstand. "I know you're in here," he said after a minute, his gravelly voice filling the room.  
  
Sam twitched away from the edge of the frame in shock.  _How?!_  his mind demanded of the human, words he was too frozen in fear to get out past his lips. How did Bobby figure it out from one little bag? Shouldn't he just think it was from a dollhouse, like a normal human?  
  
The achingly familiar voice continued while Sam was too frozen to respond. "Now, I ain't askin' ya ta come out."   
  
Sam blinked in surprise. That was the last thing he'd ever thought he'd hear from a  _human_. Even Dean had made catching Sam his first priority when he'd thought something was in his room.  _Curiouser and curiouser..._  Sam thought to himself.  
  
"I'm guessin' you're my mystery caller though, aren'tcha?"  
  
Sam leaned out from behind the picture frame, taking in the old family friend while he was looking around the rest of the room. Bobby wasn't even glancing towards where Sam was hidden, giving Sam a little more confidence to lean out further. He caught sight of his bag, still held in the massive fist. Hope blossomed in his chest when he saw it was safe, no sign of damage from the human's handling. Everything should be intact in there.  
  
Boots rattled the floor under Sam as Bobby came back over to the nightstand. Moving back behind the frame Sam froze, scrunching his eyes shut as tight as he could. He wrapped his arms around his legs, trying to make himself as small and inconspicuous as possible. He even held his breath.  
  
Years of ingrained reactions to humans refused to let him open his mouth and talk. Even the first time he'd talked to Dean had taken him hours to get up the courage to actually confront the hunter. And that was his own  _brother._  
  
A shadow passed over Sam's hiding place, then disappeared. He opened his eyes in confusion, glancing at the side of the frame he was scrunched behind.  
  
His bag was sitting there, not three inches away. All he had to do to reach it was scooch over to the edge of the frame again.  _But... what if he's just guessing where I am? What if he's trying to lure me out of hiding? Using my own bag to catch me with..._  
  
The voice came again, softer this time. "I don't know why you're with Dean, but if you're worried about him or he's gotten himself into trouble, I can help. I just need to know where to look."  
  
Sam could feel his courage starting to build up. This human didn't feel like the others... he was actually starting to remind Sam of the way Dean treated him. Acting like he was an equal, talking to him like just another person... not once had Bobby tried to go for him yet. All he had to do was pick up the picture frame Sam was sitting behind, hardly a problem for any human. And Sam was nowhere near any real cover. He was a sitting duck.  
  
Taking a leap of faith, he reached for his bag to test his theory. His small arm was exposed for the brief seconds it took. He pulled it back to his side as fast as he could. There was no movement from past the picture frame... no grabbing, no jump of surprise... nothing. Not even a gasp.  
  
Which meant Bobby already knew where he was. And had decided to leave Sam be.  
  
He gathered his courage, understanding it was useless to pretend he didn't exist at this point, and addressed the giant hunter. "You swear you won't grab me?" His voice shook as he talked, unable to push away the impression left over from when Dean had grabbed him all those weeks ago, coming close to crushing Sam by accident when he hadn't realized what he was holding in his fist. And Sam completely helpless the whole time. He was too small to budge a single finger.  
  
There was a smile in the voice when Bobby spoke up again, addressing Sam directly. "Never saw the need before."  
  
_Before? There have been other times?_  Pushing away the confusion in his mind from that statement, Sam slung his bag around his shoulder, reassured by its weight against his side. He ran a hand over the leather strap, glad it was back where it belonged. He took a moment to gather himself. This was it.  
  
He stood up and stepped out from behind the frame.  
  
"Bobby? It's me. Sam."  
  
The reaction that statement got out of Bobby could have made him the poster child for the phrase 'Cat got your tongue?' His mouth opened and closed a few times in shock. Sam clutched his bag to him when the huge hunter sank to his knees right in front of the nightstand, eyes running over every inch of Sam's small body as though he was afraid Sam might disappear again. Sam took a few steps back, nervous to be standing out in the open in front of a hunter that wasn't his brother. The human was too close for comfort, Sam barely an arm’s length away. He felt exposed and vulnerable.  
  
Bobby finally managed to get his act together enough to talk again. " _Sam?_  " he blurted. "Sam  _Winchester?_  "  
  
Sam felt his mouth turn up in a slight smile, reassured by the reaction. He held out his arms. "The one and only."  
  
Bobby closed his eyes for a few moments, recovering from the revelation. Opening them again, he caught Sam's eyes again. "But... how? We thought you were dead...  _Dean_  thought you were dead..."  
  
“I know." Sam's shoulders slumped down at the memories this brought back. "It's a long story..."  
  
Bobby shook his head. "Well, this explains why you're with Dean. I thought it'd be odd for him to have a little traveling with him..."  
  
Sam frowned. "A  _little?_  "   
  
"Yeah... it's a name for people your size. I've heard a few... littles, borrowers, that type of thing. Everyone's got their own name, it seems."  
  
Sam practically groaned. "Do me a favor...  _don't_  tell Dean about the ‘borrower’ name."  
  
Bobby settled down on the floor, giving Sam a bit more space, to the relief of the small hunter. "Any reason why?"  
  
"Uh... let's just say he'll be impossible to live with."  
  
Bobby's chest jumped in a small laugh. "Sounds like Dean alright. How long you been with him?"  
  
Sam sat down on the edge of the nightstand, still holding his bag close. Its solid weight was a comfort in his vulnerable situation. "Over a month, I think. Maybe more. Not really used to tracking days anymore."  
  
Bobby sobered up. "Did something happen to him?"  
  
"I... I don't know. The last time I saw him, he wasn't acting like... Dean." Sam trailed off, worry filling him again now that he had help.  
  
"I think you better begin at the beginning."  
  
Sam tucked his chin against his chest, deep in thought. "Well..." he started.  
  
For the next ten minutes, he filled Bobby in on the case they'd been working on. About how the girl had died, the strange tapping she'd heard in the stairwell. He got to the bit about the interview with her sister and found himself telling Bobby about how it had seemed from his point of view... accidentally going into detail about being trapped in a pocket, and how it felt when the girl had almost seen him in the elevator.  
  
The entire time, Bobby just sat there, intently listening. He didn't interrupt, he didn't make fun of Sam or poke jokes the entire time. Just listened, staying far enough back from the little hunter so Sam didn't feel threatened.   
  
As much as Sam appreciated it, he found himself missing Dean's quips. As annoying and aggravating as they could be, they had become a constant reassurance Sam hadn't realized he needed until it was gone.  
  
Sam got to the part where Dean had come back to the motel the night before at last. "It was weird," he said, staring down at his knees. "He... usually he always checks to see what I'm up to when he comes in. So he doesn't... y'know... step... on me. And, he didn't... he didn't give me the 'okay' signal when he came in." Sam strayed away from what the signal was, realizing instinctively the less people knew about it, the safer he'd be. "And he was walking weird. Acting surprised when he found weapons he'd hid in the room himself." Sam glanced back up at the older hunter. "I checked if it was a demon, but got no reaction. And Dean said shapeshifters use some kind of mind link when they take your shape... lets them pose as you. He had no idea what was in that motel room, guaranteed. And... when I saw him... up close... it was like a mirror reflection of Dean. Everything was just... a  _little_  wrong. Whatever this...  _thing_... was, it doesn't fit with what I know."  
  
Once Sam trailed off into silence at last, Bobby shifted on the ground. "Well, there's not much that might fit the bill. And nothing I've heard of that's ever been seen here before."  
  
Sam felt a bit of hope. "But you heard of something that might fit?"  
  
"I might have. Over the last century in Great Britain, there were recorded sightings of doubles. People that were at work, or with their family on one side of town while a friend would run into them on the other side of town." He stood up, causing Sam to bounce to his feet and back away from the edge of the nightstand, putting a bit more distance between him and Bobby. Instinct was impossible to ignore.  
  
Bobby grabbed the laptop from the bed, loading it up. "Password?" he asked. Sam rattled it off from memory. He would switch the password again soon enough that it wouldn't hurt for Bobby to have it. A few minutes later Bobby flipped around the computer with an article showing.  
  
Sam read the title. "Doppelgänger?" he asked curiously. "That's not shapeshifters?"  
  
Bobby frowned, turning the computer around so he could see the page. "Don't know. No hunter's ever run into one here. You and Dean might end up being the first. Supposedly, they appear as a double of a certain person. Like an identical twin, only like you're looking into a mirror instead of an exact copy like a shapeshifter. Now, whoever they're impersonating tends to die not long after the sighting, usually within six months. Because of that, they became known as death omens over in England. It's not too much of a jump to say they might be the cause of the death, instead of just the harbinger."  
  
Worry spiked in Sam again. "But... if that's true... Dean's next." He turned his hazel eyes up at Bobby, the puppy-dog look on full power. "We need to find him!"  
  
Bobby went over to the table, going through his jacket. "Do you know if Dean had any silver bullets?"  
  
"Uh, yeah. In the duffel he took with him. Why?"  
  
"Well, no matter the type of shapeshifter... skinwalkers, werewolves and the like are all vulnerable to silver. In fact it's the only way to kill most of them. With any luck a doppelgänger has the same weakness. My silver knife will have to do for now." Once he had everything settled, Bobby headed for the door.  
  
Sam jumped up, running to the edge of the nightstand. "Wait! Where are you going?"  
  
Bobby arched his eyebrows at Sam. "To the apartment you told me your brother went to before his personality changed. Why?"  
  
Sam couldn't keep the slight despair out of his voice. "You'd go without me?"  
  
"Well, yeah. It's dangerous for someone  _my_  size, never mind someone like you."  
  
Sam glared up at Bobby with determination. "I can't just sit around while Dean's in trouble! He's my brother - I need to  _be there_  for him, just like he's always there for me!" He pulled his own silver knife out of his jacket and stared at Bobby with steel in his small hazel eyes. "I can handle myself. You and Dean aren't the only hunters here."  
  
For a few moments, Bobby stood there, silently assessing Sam. Whatever he thought of Sam calling himself a hunter, he never said. He nodded thoughtfully to himself as he came to a decision. "You know this means I'll have to pick you up, right?" he asked quietly.  
  
Sam kept himself from flinching at the thought of being in someone other than Dean's hands. Dean needed him. Nothing else mattered. "Whatever it takes," he said, packing in every ounce of stubbornness and determination into his voice that he had in his body. One thing that Winchesters were never in short supply of was stubbornness. No matter their size.  
  
Bobby came over to the nightstand and knelt down. His hand came to rest a few inches away from Sam. "Just so you know, I've never picked up a borrower before," he warned.  
  
Sam smiled at that. "Well, you can't do any worse than Dean's first time. He practically crushed me before he realized what he had in his hand."  
  
Bobby's eyebrows were practically up to his trucker hat. " _Crushed_  you?"  
  
"Yeah... I'll tell you all about it. But first, we need to get Dean back." Pushing any doubt to the back of his mind, Sam stepped onto the unfamiliar hand, concentrating so he didn't shake in fear. He needed to act like he was the one in control here, keeping any sign of weakness away. He tried to keep his mind off what he was doing but failed spectacularly. He hated putting himself in anyone else’s power. Dean was the only human he trusted to hold him, and Dean had earned that trust over a lifetime.  
  
The hand rose into the air smoothly the moment he was standing in the center of the palm. Sam dropped down into a crouch for balance until Bobby had him at chest height. "Pocket?" Bobby asked.  
  
Sam glanced at the chest pocket on Bobby's jacket, considering how odd it was that it was normal for him to travel that way. "Uh, yeah, that works." His voice didn't even shake when he spoke. He was getting better at this.  
  
The hand moved down so he could reach the pocket. Sam found himself grateful that Bobby didn't try to put him in the pocket himself. Getting used to being this easily picked up was still something he was adjusting to. A lot of the time he found himself missing the days of living in the motel with his parents. He'd been the only one in control of his fate back then, no worrying about humans that could grab him as easily as breathing. Thank god Dean was doing much better at that.  
  
Jumping in, Sam discovered the pocket was thicker and roomier than any of the chest pockets on Dean's jackets. He had a bit more space to breathe, helping him to relax in his unknown surroundings. Holding his bag on his lap, he sat in the corner, glancing up nervously once in awhile.  
  
_Dean needs me._  
  
Nothing else mattered.  
  
Once Sam was safely settled in the pocket, Bobby left the room. His Chevelle soon pulled out of the parking lot, heading for Marie's apartment complex.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Annnnndddd..... the monster is revealed! Doppelgänger. More to come next Friday.


	6. Sam to the Rescue

Bobby pulled his car up to the apartment complex. Every once in a while, he could feel the boy shift around in his pocket. It was distracting, knowing that someone's entire body was hidden away in there, completely dependent on him.  
  
He still couldn't quite wrap his head around the fact that Sam was  _alive_. John had spent  _years_  mourning the boy, and Dean...  
  
Dean had never quite recovered.  
  
He glanced around the parking lot. There was no sign of the Impala. Whatever the freak they were hunting was, it was still out of the apartment. With any luck it hadn't blown town. The hunt would become a thousand times harder if they had to track the monster across state lines.  
  
Pushing those thoughts out of his mind for the moment, Bobby gently opened the pocket. Sam flinched back in surprise at the sudden movement over his head, staring fearfully up out of the pocket. He relaxed a hair when he spotted Bobby above him, giving Bobby hope that the boy was starting to trust him. Even just a little.  
  
He understood all too well that the only reason Sam had been willing to let Bobby carry him was worry for his brother - the amount of dedication and determination in that tiny body was amazing.  
  
"We're here," Bobby said, keeping his voice down for Sam's sake. "Do you remember the apartment number?"  
  
"Uh..." Sam closed his eyes for a second. "I think it was... 42? It's on the fourth floor, right near the stairwell. I only caught a quick glimpse of the door earlier." He gave a quick, embarrassed shrug from his spot in the corner, shifting his bag around nervously in the tight confines. "You can imagine I don't really get the best point of view."  
  
"Alright then." Bobby let the pocket close. He took the elevator to the fourth floor, taking advantage of the shortest route.  
  
The door was right where Sam had said it would be. Bobby went for the doorknob, surprised to find it had been left open. He pushed it open slow, keeping an eye out for anyone lurking in the shadows. The moment they were in the apartment, he felt Sam pushing up the top of the pocket so he could see out, balancing precariously in the swinging pocket. His small boots dug into Bobby's chest for support as he desperately peered around for Dean. Bobby ignored him for the moment, stalking silently into the next room over.  
  
The moment he stepped into the living room, Bobby could feel the blood drain from his face.  
  
Dean was slumped down on the ground, roped to one of the building supports. His face was pale, almost bloodless. His hands and feet were tied separately, smaller ropes wrapped around tight enough to cut off his circulation. Bloody marks around his wrist showed how he'd struggled to escape while awake. His chest moved in a slow rhythm, barely breathing.  
  
As soon as he saw Dean, Sam started to struggle to get out of the pocket. "Put me down!" he snapped up at Bobby, sounding panicked now that his brother was finally in sight. "Please! I need to  _help_  him!"  
  
His heart twisting at the fear in Sam's voice, Bobby immediately scooped his hand under Sam, refusing to keep the boy anywhere he didn't want to be. It would be far too easy to trap someone his size unwillingly, as Bobby knew from experience. He would be damned before he ever saw that happen to Sam on his watch.  
  
Dropping to his knees, Bobby slid Sam off his hand onto the hardwood floor. Once he stood back up, he took a careful step away from the small Winchester, not trusting himself near the boy. Sam was too small and easily hurt to want to see him next to boots so much bigger than him.  
  
Sam immediately set out towards his brother, unfazed by the distance between them. Every inch of him bled determination. Bobby followed, keeping a careful distance between his boots and the miniature hunter. Sam didn't even flinch when the ground shook behind him. He was completely focused on Dean.  
  
The moment Sam reached his brother, he started to haul himself up Dean's prone form. Bobby's eyes widened at the sight of Sam, fearlessly scaling a giant. Dean might not be conscious, but he could easily be dangerous to someone as small as Sam without ever needing to wake up. One twitch, one arm shifting slightly the wrong way and Sam could be tossed to the ground or crushed. Sam was  _that_  much smaller. Yet for such a tiny guy, the kid sure as hell had balls. Bobby wasn't sure if he'd ever be able to trust  _anyone_  enough to climb up them like that, especially not while they were unconscious.  
  
Seeing Sam that way, outlined against the backdrop of his older brother made Bobby realize exactly how much height the kid had lost. Hell - some of Dean's fingers were as long as him. But Sam still climbed up, using Dean's shirt for purchase the whole way. He didn't hesitate for a second once he reached Dean's hands. Dean needed him, and that's all that mattered. While Bobby was woolgathering behind him, Sam managed to balance precariously on the back of Dean's hand, staring up at his huge brother with worry covering his face.  
  
"Dean!" he called up, stomping one of his small boots onto Dean's thumb, hoping to get a rise out of him. Aside from a slight twitch, Dean didn't respond. His breathing remained shallow and even.  
  
Kneeling down next to the unconscious hunter, Bobby carefully shook Dean's shoulder, trying to help wake him. "Dean." Sam was too small to wake someone like that, as much as he clearly wanted to. Bobby did his best to keep from rocking the hand Sam was standing on.  
  
There was still no response.  
  
While Bobby was trying to wake Dean, Sam dug his knife out of his jacket, tearing into the tight bindings around Dean's hands. Following his lead, Bobby took a bigger knife to the thicker ropes binding the hunter to the wooden post.  
  
By the time Sam had cut through the last few threads and Bobby had freed Dean's legs, Dean was beginning to show signs of life. Bobby sat back, remembering Dean's enforced rule of 'personal space.' He was careful to keep close enough that if Sam was in any danger of being thrown off his brother, he'd be able to catch him.  
  
He needn't have worried. The second Dean's eyes slitted open, they landed on Sam like he'd been expecting him. Bobby was startled, to say the least. Dean shouldn't have been able to  _feel_  someone that small standing there. Sam barely weighed anything at all.  
  
"...'ammy?" Dean rasped out, voice barely functional. The glazed green eyes blinked, trying hard to focus down on his hands.  
  
His hands shifted under Sam, just enough to make the smaller Winchester stumble. Sam fell over backwards, safely landing in Dean's palm, outstretched at the last second to catch him. Curling his fingers protectively over his brother, Dean lifted up the hand holding Sam to his face. He blearily checked to make sure Sam was alright while he blinked tiredly.  
  
Bobby could feel his heart warmed by the obvious concern Dean showed his small brother. He had clearly earned the trust Sam gave him. Dean didn't even bother checking if he himself was alright until he was sure Sammy was okay.  
  
Sam stared trustingly up at Dean, unfazed by the sight of the huge fingers eclipsing him. "Dean..." he said, sounding less panicked now that his brother was conscious.  
  
Not responding to Sam yet, Dean pulled himself up to a sitting position, shaking his head to try and clear it. Once his head was straight, he glanced up. It took a few long seconds before what he was staring at sunk in. At long last, he focused on the older hunter sitting near him. " _Bobby?_  " Dean's eyes ballooned in shock, fingers curling around Sam as he eyed the older hunter suspiciously. Trying to move weakly away from Bobby, he cupped the hand holding Sam protectively against his chest.  
  
Bobby's heart almost broke at the reaction he'd gotten out of Dean. Not from the suspicion - if he had someone the size of Sam to look after, he'd be suspicious of everyone too. Hell, he was suspicious of everyone  _now_. But the look in Dean's eyes - how afraid he seemed of ever losing Sam again -  _that_  hurt to see. It reminded him so much of the way Dean had been... the weeks after losing his brother.  
  
_"DEAN!" The shout rolls across the junkyard.  
  
Bobby glances out the window from where he's sitting reading the newspaper. Ever since John arrived on his doorstep a week ago, battered and bruised, he's been riding Dean mercilessly. The boy has taken to hiding in the junkyard, fiddling with the cars for a distraction, an escape from his father's rage and obsession.  
  
John of course has taken that badly. He's started to track Dean down, finding the boy and forcing him to train. Guns, self-defense... even basic tracking skills. Not that John has half the skill of Bobby at THAT. But John naturally considers his way the best way. Ever since Bobby originally helped him learn hunting skills he's become hardheaded, rarely taking any advice without a grain of salt.  
  
And for Dean, it's either John's way or the highway. His father accepts no less.  
  
Bobby can't take much more of this. The boy hasn't spoken a word since losing his brother. Each time John tracks him down, Dean simply does the training he's told to do. In those moments he has a single minded determination, focused completely on the task at hand. John's heavy handed tasking leaves no time for the boy to recover, no time to mourn.  
  
Bobby watches as John confronts Dean in front of the house. One of the junkyard dogs lies nearby, watching calmly. John yells at Dean for slacking off. He berates Dean for letting his focus slide, for losing sight of their goal. He scolds the boy, asking if he WANTS to die like his brother. Dean simply stands there, taking it. He stares at the ground under his feet, letting the shouts roll off his back as he scuffs a shoe against the rough, gravelly ground.  
  
But Bobby can see the way Dean clenches his fist behind his back. Where his father can't see it. He is holding in all the pain and rage and self-blame, bottling it up until no emotion can escape. Not fear, not happiness, not sorrow. Each day he becomes better at this, using his unique mental focus to keep control. Bobby wishes it doesn't have to be this way. If Dean keeps it all in, it will eventually consume him, a black hole of emotions that will leave nothing behind.  
  
Yet John can see none of this. Too buried under his own guilt from losing his youngest, piled on top of the loss of Mary all those years ago, he can't see anything but the mission. His holy cause. The beginning and ending of his day. His own personal Alpha and Omega. He will drag Dean down into the pit with him if given half the chance. And Dean will let him. He knows no other way.  
  
After the shouting is over, John storms off. Dean settles down on the steps, mechanically taking apart his gun and reassembling it, over and over and over. Each piece is meticulously removed, cleaned and fitted. He knows that gun better at 14 than Bobby did at 28. No child should have to live that way.  
  
The roar of the Impala starts up. John is off to the bar, his most self-destructive habit. He might come back later, he might not. Either way, Dean will sit there until his hands are covered in blisters, sore and bleeding, memorizing the gun down to its smallest parts. He probably knows it well enough to build one with his eyes closed. He won't stop until he falls asleep there on the steps or is TOLD to stop by his father. Which will not happen.  
  
And, Bobby knows why Dean is like this. He blames himself for his brother's loss. Sammy's memory haunts Dean's every footstep, his shadow behind every door Dean opens. The little brother that used to idolize him, follow him everywhere like a lost puppy. Gone forever. Dean will never stop blaming himself for what happened.  
  
Bobby can't stand by and watch anymore. He goes outside. Dean barely glances up from the gun, eyes flicking to the older hunter for a mere second before resuming his work. Bobby bends down, putting a hand on the gun. Dean meets his eyes, confusion showing through. He knows as well as Bobby how John will react if he finds out Dean is slacking off again. Bobby just stares back, letting his own silence speak for itself when he meets the boy’s eyes. He doesn't get a response from Dean and doesn't expect one.  
  
But the boy has suffered enough.  
  
Bobby takes Dean back in the kitchen. He cooks them both a meal of hot dogs and baked beans. He takes Dean out back and tosses a ball back and forth with him. They spend that night eating popcorn, drinking Pepsi and watching old westerns. They start with a Clint Eastwood one. With the monkey.  
  
John will never find out that Dean didn't train that day. Not from Bobby. And Dean won't speak for another few months, the time it takes for him to process through his brother's loss. John drinks himself into oblivion each night for another month before he returns to hunting. Obsession blinds him to the changes in his eldest son.  
  
That day, Dean doesn't smile. It's too soon for that. But the darkness that's been hovering over him is pushed back.  
  
For a time._  
  
Bobby brought himself back to the present. Dean was still eyeing him up suspiciously, with Sam cupped protectively in those same hands covered in scars and calluses from years of training and hunting. Years of John pushing him to the limit.  
  
Sam was trying his best to push off the big fingers pressing him to Dean's chest. He was so small there was no way for him to make any progress while the two hunters sat there in a silent standoff.  
  
His small voice broke the silence, cutting through the thick tension like a knife. "Dean! Stop it... Bobby's here with me!  _I_  brought him!"  
  
That was enough to get Dean's attention. Uncovering Sam, he held his smaller sibling directly in front of his face, glaring at him. "You did  _what?_  "  
  
Sam stood up to his full four inch height as soon as he was freed. He glared right back at Dean, unintimidated by the larger hunter. "I called him because  _you_  were in trouble, and I couldn't help you!" The desperation showed through his voice. "Not on my own at least! Ever since you came into the motel room not acting like yourself..."  
  
In less than an instant the expression on Dean's face went from annoyance to worry and fear. "Did he... did  _I_... see you?"  
  
Sam shook his head. "No, I kept out of sight the whole time. He never gave any signals, or even a sign he knew I was there... just tore the room apart searching for weapons."  
  
Dean scowled. "Weapons? What's a monster want with weapons?"  
  
Bobby felt it time to interrupt the brotherly bickering and get them focused on the problem. He had a feeling they could go on like that the rest the night. "It's a doppelgänger, idjit. Unless it links to you, it has no natural weapons. Meaning, it needs to protect itself the good 'ole fashioned way we all do."  
  
Footsteps came from behind him out of nowhere. Before Bobby could react, something solid hit him in the head. All he saw was a flash of red, and then he hit the ground.

* * *

  
Sam barely had time to register the ominous footsteps before he found himself mashed into Dean's chest, his brother trying his best to block Sam from sight. He tried to escape the huge fingertips, with the pressure holding him down almost strong enough to snap bones. "Dean!" he gasped out, praying Dean could hear him. "Too much!"  
  
Immediately, the pressure released from his back. Dean still held him in the dark, but his hand cupped around Sam instead of pressing him down. Sam slumped down in Dean's grip, panting from how close it had been.  
  
The edge of the jacket helped shield Sam from the creature’s line of sight. One of the fingers surrounding Sam nudged him roughly to the side. After a second's confusion, Sam realized Dean was trying to guide him into one of the inside pockets of his jacket, where he would be safely out of sight.  
  
A voice cut through the air over him, a very  _familiar_  voice. But Dean's chest didn't vibrate the way it always did when he was talking, and the voice might have been right, but the intonations, the way the words rolled off the tongue just wasn't  _Dean_. "Well, well well. What have we here." The boots stopped right next to Dean. Sam froze where he was, hoping to escape notice. "Another hunter. You hunters... you're drawn to things like me... like flies to shit." A second passed where Sam could hear fabric shifting. "You don't even know what you got yourself into, did you?"  
  
This time, the voice was clearly Dean. "What are you talking about, you freak?" he demanded, loud enough to shake Sam where he was hidden.  
  
Sam was starting to get confused. Dean should have gone for the monster already... he was untied and free. Bobby'd been knocked out, but surely Dean could take out the monster on his own. Why wasn't he moving?  
  
The boots started up again, pacing away. Sam took the opportunity to wriggle out of Dean's grasp, tumbling head first into the closest pocket once he was free. After a short drop he landed on salt shells almost as long as his leg. He let out a small groan, the metal clinking softly as he landed. Dean's pockets weren't exactly made to hide a person in comfortably.  _That's gonna leave a bruise,_  he thought to himself ruefully. Shifting until he was sitting on top, Sam listened to the surroundings outside.  
  
Something was being dragged across the floor. "You know," said the fake Dean's chipper tone. "I thought I'd have to hunt down my next meals. I mean, I spent  _years_  drifting before I anchored myself to that girl. So weak, so  _pathetic_  was I that I couldn't wait, draw out the feeding the way I should. The way that is  _proper._  I had to take all her essence at once. Otherwise it would have been sweet, sweet oblivion for me." The shifting ended with the fake Dean grunting. Rope rustled.  
  
Sam frowned.  _Must be tying Bobby up_. It wasn't far away either. The sounds were coming from Dean's right side. Dean still wasn't moving though. In fact...  _He's getting weaker. His breathing... it's getting shallower..._ Worry pervaded every corner of Sam's mind. Whatever the monster had done to the girl when it stole her life, it was doing to Dean,  _now._  
  
"Tell me what you are." Dean's loud voice demanded. But Sam could hear the effort that phrase took out of his brother. No wonder he hadn't made a move at the creature... Dean had no strength left. And the creature  _knew_ it. That's why he wasn't wasting his time tying the hunter up... he knew Dean was no threat.  
  
Grim determination filled Sam. Dean might not be a threat, but the monster didn't even suspect Sam was there. Who would? All he had to do was get Bobby free so he could go for his silver knife and take the monster out. And hope he could wake up Bobby.  
  
Just sneak past a monstrous version of Dean, untie a giant hunter and stay clear of getting squashed in the chaos that would ensue.  
  
Simple.  
  
"Hell, once I'm done with the two of you, I won't even  _need_  to feed for.... oh, another century or so. Your friend... he has a bit of life left in him. But you... you have one of the strongest life forces I've ever felt."  
  
Dean growled at that. "What the hell kind of shapeshifter are you? I've never heard of one taking a person’s life force from them..."  
  
The second Dean scoffed. " _Shapeshifters_. Pretentious creatures, the lot of 'em. Always looking down at my people because we need to feed to survive. Whereas what they do, they do for fun. I'm a  _doppelgänger_ , fool. Your unconscious friend here got that much right."  
  
Sam took the opportunity to haul himself out of Dean's pocket while the giants were going back and forth over his head. Sam braced himself against the flannel shirt Dean was wearing under his jacket and started to climb slowly down, focusing solely on not disturbing the outside of the jacket. He needed to keep under the radar for this to work, his greatest asset. He used the small amount of light leaking into the tight area to see his handholds ahead of time, planning out his descent.  
  
The moment Dean felt Sam start to slip down his shirt, he realized he needed to keep the creature distracted. Whatever Sam up to down there, Dean trusted his judgement. "Doppelgänger. I'm really not seeing the difference here. They change their shape, you change your shape," he baited.  
  
The creature  _tuted_  under his breath. "Shapeshifters kill for pleasure. My people kill for  _survival_. If we don't feed from a human, we fade away into nothingness. Lost in the wind."  
  
Sam made it to the edge of Dean's pants. He carefully peeked out from under the jacket, searching for the creature. It was standing across the room, glaring at Dean with the same familiar green-eyed scowl Sam saw most days. A shiver went up his back from the disturbing familiarity. It really was like looking into a mirror of Dean. Sam slipped down off Dean's leg, landing out of sight.  
  
"We doppelgängers need to tie ourselves to this plane. Once anchored, we assume the form of the person we attached our essence to. Now, the closer we stay to our anchor, the faster we absorb their life. Which is why you feel so weak right now. So mostly, we keep away. A few miles is close enough to still gain the energy without losing the bond and discorporating. It gives us a few months before we have to seek out a new bond. Humans started to figure us out near the beginning of the 1900's. Catching a picture of a person on the other side of town while the actual person is at home with their family... or at church, at work. And so on. A few were killed by hunters, but most survived by staying as far from their anchor as possible, so there was less chance of recognition."  
  
Sam glanced over the top of Dean's leg as best he could. Seeing the creature gazing off in another direction, he took his chance, darting across the floor to Bobby. Now that he was further away from Dean, he could see his brother's lips were almost bloodless, Dean barely breathing at all. But he soldiered on, knowing Sam and Bobby's safety depended on him.  
  
"Heh," the creature laughed. "All I gotta do now is wait. With me so close, you'll be dead in an hour and your friend will follow soon after. And I..." he leaned close over Dean, "...will be free to leave at last, living off this energy until I need to anchor myself once more."  
  
Sam managed to crawl up Bobby's arm, clutching his knife desperately. The doppelgänger had tied Bobby's arms to the pole behind him, giving Sam cover while he started to hack away at the bindings. One of the hands twitched under Sam as Bobby roused, starting to recover from the blow to his head. Thinking fast, Sam pulled himself onto Bobby's wrist so he wouldn't get thrown off by the moving fingers below. He was suspended in the air by a foot or more, so if he got thrown off he'd break bones at the least.  
  
Bobby groaned as he roused. His head ached something fierce. Remembering what happened the minute before he lost consciousness, he glanced around the room, eyes falling on Dean. The younger hunter was slumped further down, exhausted by both his continued banter and proximity to the Dean-alike. Bobby could almost see the life force being taken from Dean now. He felt his worry spike. Dean clearly couldn't hold on much longer. He wondered what had happened to Sam... there was no sign of him anywhere, dead or alive, when he realized he could feel something on his hand. Moving... shifting... then one of the ropes on his wrist went slack and he realized where Sam must have gone. The kid was actually  _standing_  on his wrist, cutting Bobby free out of sight. For someone smaller than a hand, he was hands-down one of the bravest people Bobby had ever known. Bobby froze, holding his arm as still as he could for the small hunter.  
  
The doppelgänger leaned over Dean, stroking a hand over his face. It grabbed ahold of his chin, forcing Dean to stare into its own green-eyed glare. A white mist rose from him, swirling into the Dean-alike. Dean's body sagged down as his life force was taken, breathing out a death rattle.  
  
Right when Bobby thought it was all over and Dean was lost to them, the rope behind him completely snapped. Sam's small body plummeted when he moved, catching Bobby's sleeve at the last second. Bobby went for his knife with the Sam-free arm as he swooped his other hand beneath the boy, scooping him to safety. He dove for the doppelgänger, slamming it away from Dean. Dean collapsed to the side as Bobby raised his silver knife, plunging it down into the fake Dean's chest.  
  
The creature let out a shriek, clawing at its face. A white mist rose from it, part scattering in the air and part drifting back to Dean, laying over his body like a fine dew. Dean took a deep breath, color returning to his face as the mist sank into his skin. The creature faded into the air, its body returning to the energy it stole from others. The last few flickers drifted by Sam, wafting his hair as he stood on Bobby's palm.  
  
Bobby dropped to his knees, helping Dean sit up, still weak. "You okay, boy?" he asked gruffly.  
  
"Uh... yeah, 'hink so." Dean blinked his eyes. "Sammy?"  
  
"Here!" Sam waved up at his big brother from his perch on Bobby's hand, grinning hugely.  
  
Dean smiled with relief the moment he saw his brother, thankful his family was still in one piece.

* * *

  
Later that night the three hunters were found sitting around the small table in Dean's motel room, enjoying a quiet drink together. Well - Dean and Bobby were sitting at the table, on opposite sides. Sam was sitting on a small pile of books Dean had set up for him, close to his brother's relaxed arm.  
  
He wasn't afraid of Bobby now, but he didn't feel completely comfortable around the large hunter. Not the same way he felt sitting near Dean. He felt safer here, next to the massive, familiar hand distractedly tapping out the beat to 'Ramble On' without even noticing.  
  
Neither human had been surprised that Sam had stayed with his brother on the trip back to the motel. He couldn't believe the relief he'd felt, being held in those familiar, callused hands. The whole time they'd been trying to save Dean, he'd been afraid he'd never get his brother back... that that creature, that  _doppelgänger_  would kill Dean before he got Bobby free.  
  
Sam would have done anything to save his brother. As afraid as he'd been, so high up in the air balancing on the wrist of a human he didn't know well, he'd have done it all again. And again.  
  
Those few seconds falling, he'd been sure it was all over. But Bobby hadn't let him down, scooping Sam's tiny body to safety while he went for the creature wearing Dean's face, saving both brothers.  
  
For the moment, Sam sipped from the tinfoil cup he'd made himself, drinking some of the beer Dean had poured him when they got in. He wasn't planning on getting drunk this time... he didn't remember  _much_  from the last time he'd been drinking, but what he did remember made his ears burn in embarrassment. How did Dean never have a problem, no matter  _how_  much he drank? Yet Sam had a few capfuls and he ended up swimming in his brother's cup. Literally.  
  
Bastard.  
  
Sam stretched his legs along the book he was sitting on, propping them up. Sitting on the table with the two humans looming above didn't bother him in the slightest. He wondered if he should be worried about that. Here he was, four inches tall, clearly  _not_  human, yet he was perfectly safe, surrounded by two massive, dangerous hunters. Men who lived to hunt down the supernatural. If only Walt could see him now... Sam wished desperately that his father would have given Dean a chance. Maybe if Sam hadn't been so concerned about his family wanting him to stay away from Dean, things would be different now...  
  
While Sam was lost in his thoughts, Dean's deep voice rumbled through the air. "So Bobby. You never told me. How'd you end up here, anyway? And with  _Sam_ , of all people?"  
  
Sam watched the older hunter lean back in his chair, taking a huge swig of his bottle. "Well, I got a strange phone call from  _you_. Picked up, but no one was talking on the other line."  
  
Sam felt his ears turn red at the memory. He hadn't been able to talk to the other human... even to get Dean help. If Bobby hadn't been such a paranoid bastard, he'd never have come to investigate and right now Dean would be...  
  
Bobby arched his eyebrows down at Sam. "It seemed suspicious enough to come check out. When I got here and found him hiding in your room it all started to make sense."  
  
Sam bowed his head, remembering those first moments when Bobby had broken into the room. Listening to the huge voice echo through the room, knowing if he got caught there was no one around to save him... afraid of being found by another human, a  _hunter_  that wasn't his brother. Walt would be rolling in his grave if he knew what Sam had been through the last few days.  
  
The huge hand he was sitting near moved, draping a finger against the book Sam was sitting on. Glancing up at his brother, he saw Dean looking down at him with worry and fear covering his face. Sam sighed, knowing Dean was blaming himself for leaving Sam on his own. He gave the closest finger a rough kick, annoyed with his brother's overprotectiveness. "Dean,  _nothing bad_  happened." He stared up at Bobby, pushing Dean from his mind as best he could. "How did you figure out I was there so fast? I've been caught out in rooms before, but no one's ever figured out I was there like that."  
  
He tried to ignore how that massive hand near him tensed when he mentioned being caught. Peeking up at Dean, he saw that his brother had an angry, intense look on his face, directed at Bobby.  
  
Bobby had no reaction to Dean's anger. His eyes fell on Sam, making the smaller hunter freeze up for a second under the unfamiliar scrutiny. Bobby gave him a small, reassuring smile. "You're not the first person your size I ever met. I've run into your people on and off throughout the years."  
  
Sam couldn't help the look of hope that washed over his face. "You have? Who... where was it? When?"  
  
Bobby gave a laugh. "Calm down. It’s been years now. And unlike your brother here, the closest I ever came to one of you before today was one time I found a man locked up in a cage. There was a hunter in town, tracking down all the littles that lived there... I got there just in time to get him out of the cage. Spent the rest of my time convincing that hunter that there was nothing to hunt." He closed his eyes in memory. "Bastard would have killed 'em all with a clear conscience if he could."  
  
"I don't understand... what would make someone actually search them out and try to kill them?" Dean glanced down at Sam, meeting his brother's eyes. "They're not exactly dangerous."  
  
Sam shifted in his seat, disturbed by the sudden consideration in Dean's eyes. He knew Dean well enough to know he was analyzing the type of threat someone Sam's size could pose, from a hunter's perspective. Though he knew he was perfectly safe, it put a chill up his spine to be sized up by such a large hunter.  
  
Bobby frowned deeply, lines etched in his face. "I don't know what would make anyone actually search them out," he admitted. "But for  _why_  he wanted to kill them... it was just because they're different. Just because they’re ‘supernatural.' " He stared down at Sam and gestured at him. “Those same people would say Sam here’s not human, too.”  
  
Sam blinked in surprise at that. "You'd still consider me human?" He waved an arm at himself. “Even like  _this?_  "  
  
Bobby's face went solemn. "The only difference between you and Dean is your size. The curse didn't take away your humanity, boy. No matter what anyone tells you. Now you may not be the  _normal_  definition of a human, but that's no reason for people to treat you any different."  
  
Sam tucked his chin down. "I just..." He stared at the hand draped casually on the table next to him. Fingers as long as he was tall, a palm so wide he could curl up on it and take a nap... He couldn't bring himself to accept he was human like Dean anymore. Not like this. "We're so different..."  
  
"Different's not a bad thing." Bobby blinked his eyes, focusing on what he'd been talking about before. "But that don't mean everyone believes it... There's a few hunters out there like that. More'n one community's been slaughtered because of people like him."  
  
Dean scowled at Bobby. "And why didn't you ever tell  _me_  they existed? If I'd known..." He stared intently at Sam, making him shift uncomfortably under the scrutiny. Sam's instincts were on overdrive today. "I might not have almost hurt Sam when I found him..."  
  
With a nod Bobby accepted Dean's reaction. They'd explained to him when they first got back how Sam had been first discovered, leaving out no details, including Sam injuring his wrist and how Dean had grabbed him before knowing what was there. "I never told you because there was no way to know how you'd react. They're perfectly harmless, and even helpful on occasion if you managed to get them to talk to you. Which almost never happens because of how vulnerable they are around us. The trust isn't there. It might never be." At this Bobby gave Sam a sad smile. "No one knows exactly where the others like Sam came from, or what they really are. Names have been given to them throughout the years..."  
  
Sam tensed, hoping Bobby wouldn't reveal the ‘borrower’ name his people had been given 'officially.' He didn't want to give Dean more fuel than he already had.  
  
But Bobby didn't let him down. "...but all that does is cover up fact we know almost nothing about these people who share our world. Now, yer daddy had a bee in his bonnet against anything he considered 'supernatural' and they'd certainly qualify. The last thing I ever wanted to do was put them in more danger from other hunters. Especially since I didn't know how he'd react." He met Dean’s eyes steadily at that. Dean scowled, but nodded his understanding.  
  
Sam winced at the thought of his dad. It was all too true for him. John Winchester could easily be a danger to his youngest son, whether he meant it or not.  
  
Bobby watched the brothers reaction for a moment before he kept talking. "Once I found your bag lying out, it was obvious you were there. No regular sized human could ever make a bag that intricate, that small. You can tell when something's made for a dollhouse and when it’s actually made to be used. And the signs of wear on it... I figured you couldn't be far."  
  
Sam tightened his grip on his bag, remembering those moments with a stranger holding all his most important possessions. How powerless he'd felt, having to hide with no way to get his things back.  
  
Dean stared down at him with a worried gaze when he noticed Sam's tense posture, making Sam fire up his own annoyed glower at his brother's overprotectiveness.  
  
Bobby smiled slightly. "Idjits..." he said, bringing Sam and Dean's focus back over to him. "Once I knew he was there, I tried to let him know he was safe. I was shocked when he stood up and let me see him... that almost _never_  happens. Sam's one of the bravest people his size I ever met."  
  
Dean's eyes went round at that. "You did that for me?" he asked quietly, knowing how dangerous it would be for Sam to reveal himself to another human... a hunter, at that.  
  
Sam rocked back on the books, staring down at the table. That same helpless feeling struck him. "You needed help and he was the only person I could go to..."  
  
Bobby stared at the two of them for a long moment, taking in the tall hunter and his miniature brother. Both hunters in their own rights, no matter their size. "You boys..." he sighed. "Ain't no one out there like the two of you."  
  
It wasn't long before Bobby excused himself, wanting to head back home before it got too late. "You two keep out of trouble now, hear me?"  
  
Dean laughed. "We'll see you around, Bobby."  
  
"Don't be strangers." Bobby cast one last look at Sam. " _Both_  you boys are always welcome at my place."  
  
Sam watched from the table as Dean let Bobby out of the room. He sighed, glad it was all over. Back to just him and Dean, no freaky monster running around with his brother's face, no unknown hunters for Sam to worry about. Standing, he took stock of where he was. It wasn't too late, so he could get some exploring in before turning in for the night... do a quick run through of the walls. Just too sure.  
  
Dean was leaning his head against the door of the room when Sam started his climb down from the table. He scaled down the long table leg, keeping a firm grip on his fishing line. A third of the way down, he realized the world was shaking around him. The moment it stopped, Sam twisted in place. His breath caught in his throat. His brother's knees were barely a foot away from Sam, sending a small shiver up his back at the sheer scale of his brother.  
  
No, he couldn’t be a human same as Dean. Not like this.  
  
Now that Bobby was gone and the case was solved, he remembered how angry Dean had been before. The fear he'd pushed to the back of his mind came rushing to the forefront.  
  
Dean knelt down, giving Sam an uncertain smile. "You, uh... you want a hand?" he asked hopefully.  
  
The words "I'm fine" were on the tip of Sam's tongue when he saw the expression on Dean's face. The fear faded from his mind, forgotten.  
  
_He's afraid,_  Sam realized.  
  
_Afraid of what?_  
  
The realization hit Sam at the last second.  _He's afraid of pushing me away.  
  
He's afraid of losing me._  
  
So Sam smiled through his nerves. Dean needed this more than he did. "Yeah, that'd be great."  
  
A huge hand rose up, letting the fish line slip through the fingers so Sam wasn't jostled. It came to a rest less than an inch under Sam's dangling feet, forming a broad platform. Sam let go of the line, hitting the surface of Dean's palm with a thump. It caught his weight easily. He dropped into a squat to keep his balance as the hand rose up, close to Dean's face so it would be easier for them to talk.  
  
"Where do you want me to drop you off?" Dean asked seriously. Sam's hair was ruffled in the slight breeze caused by Dean's words.  
  
Sam took a quick look around the room. "Mind dropping me off near the nightstand? I thought I saw an entrance my size... figured I'd check it out..."  
  
Dean unfolded himself to a stand, plucking Sam's small hook from the table as he rose. Sam accepted it from the massive fingertips gratefully, tucking it safely back into his bag. A few thudding steps later and Dean was kneeling down. He paused for a second, raising up Sam.  
  
"Sam, you know I never meant to scare you the other day, right? That no matter how annoyed I get, you're always safe with me?"  
  
Sam couldn't bring himself to respond at first, too surprised by the sudden outpouring from Dean.  
  
Dean held up his other hand, staring at it while he clenched it into a fist. He took Sam's silence the wrong way. "I mean, I know I'll always be dangerous for you to be around because of what I am, but I'd  _never_  purposely hurt you..."  
  
Sam cut him off mid rant. "Dean..." He stared down at the hand he was standing on, stared at all the ridges and scars that made it uniquely Dean's. Some were so small it was doubtful Dean would ever be able to see them, but to Sam they were as clear as day. As familiar to him as his home had been all those years. As small as he was, as  _vulnerable_  as he was, he felt safe here. He knew now that no matter what, no matter how much he pissed off Dean, these massive hands would always mean safety to Sam. Security. His only sanctuary in the world. "I know you didn't do it on purpose. And, dude? I'm  _not_  scared of you." Sam held out his small arms. "Would I be standing here if I was?"  
  
Sam met the uncertain green eyes above him. Dean gave a hesitant smile back. Sam gave the thumb near him a swift kick for emphasis, knowing he couldn't hurt Dean. And Dean would never hurt him. "So stop worrying so much, alright? It wasn't your fault."  
  
"Whatever, pint-size." Dean gave Sam a small chuck on the shoulder with a finger before he lowered his hand down, letting Sam slide off. "Wish I could go with you," he said quietly.  
  
Sam smiled that. "Yeah, me too," he admitted.  
  
Sam started his trek towards the back of the beds, only to pause when Dean's loud voice rang out behind him. "Sam, wait!" Sam almost stumbled from the sudden volume.  
  
He turned to see Dean rubbing the back of his neck apologetically. "That, uh... that password thing you came up with. Good job."  
  
Sam beamed with pride before turning away from Dean, heading silently under the bed.  
  
No other words were needed.

* * *

  
_**Epilogue**_  
  
The next morning found Sam sitting on the nightstand next to the remote for the TV. He was watching the news, seeing if anything raised any flags for their next hunt. Dean was out like a light. He'd spent the night after Sam had left at a local bar, playing some poker and getting a drink.  
  
The news droned on with stories of local politicians and events. Absolutely nothing Sam was interested in, or had any meaning for him. He leaned back with an annoyed sigh.  
  
A loud guitar riff broke through the room.  
  
Sam jumped out of his skin, not expecting the loud noise. Dean's phone lit up next to him, ringing again.  
  
"Dean?" Sam called out. He glanced over at the bed his brother was snoozing on. Dean was still out cold.  
  
_Must have been a fun night..._  
  
Sam sent a glare at the phone when it went off again.  
  
Giving in, he stalked over. It took effort but he was able to pry it open. Barely. He hit the button forcefully to answer, taking some of his aggravation out. "Hello?" At least the person on the other end had no idea he was four inches tall. Aside from his voice being quieter than Dean's, he sounded normal enough.  
  
_"Sammy? Is that you?"_  
  
Sam stared at the phone like it had morphed into a venomous snake.  
  
_"Dad?"_  
  
_**FIN**_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For anyone who watches my charahub account, Bobby and the Doppelgänger's profiles have been added, give them a peek! https://charahub.com/user/nightmares06
> 
> Next Friday we will have the Second Interlude, and after that starts another of my original stories. Thanks so much for reading! Any comments appreciated!

**Author's Note:**

> This storyline is completely original, taking one of my fears of being followed but there's no one there and combined it with a fun legend.
> 
> Got editing help from shooshpapping on tumblr.


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